Prince of Slytherin Rewrite
by Lord Cartwright
Summary: What if Harry was darker? What if he went into Slytherin? What if he didn't trust people as easily? What if there was no Golden Trio? What if Harry James Potter and Tom Marvolo Riddle were virtual mirror images. Would he become a Dark Lord or would he become the greatest hero of all time? Would people fear to even speak his name or would they speak his name in awe? HARRY IS COMING.
1. The First Ten Years

_AN: so sorry for such a long time since I was last heard from but my pc packed in and I could not afford to buy a new one until today and in celebration I thought I would try and rewrite this story as I was not happy with the way the first one had gone; I didn't change too much in this chapter but I did add in little bits of detail and took others out, hope you all like it, here's to hopefully one day completing this story, I WILL complete this story even if it kills me._

**The First ten years.**

Albus Dumbledore (_Supreme Mugwump, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Grand Sorcerer, defeater of the Dark Lord Gellert Grindelwald, Order of Merlin first class and Headmaster of Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry_) appeared on the end of Privet drive in Surrey with an almost silent pop. As he looked around the quite, dark street bathed in the half moon light, he heaved a heavy sigh. All up and down the country, witches and Wizards were celebrating the fall of the most evil and powerful Dark Lord in Wizarding history, Lord Voldemort. As the leader and founder of the Order of the Phoenix, a group who were dedicated to fighting the Dark Lord and his followers head on in battle, one would expect him be out there celebrating the downfall of Voldemort.

However, on this Halloween night, he could not bring himself to celebrate, as two of his all-time favourite students and very dear friends had been murdered by Lord Voldemort and their happy bouncing baby boy had been left orphaned when the Dark Lord had turned his wand on the boy, only to find his killing curse rebounding upon himself, destroying his body and forcing his spirit to flee the home. Harry James Potter had not even reached his second birthday, yet before he did he would be famous the world over, known as the only survivor of killing curse, known as the Boy-Who-lived, the hero of the light and the Wizarding world.

And that was why he was here on this Muggle street, while everyone he knew celebrated Voldemort's downfall, Dumbledore was overseeing the transfer of Harry to his Aunt and Uncle's home and hopefully, loving care. While it was true in the fact that there were plenty of Wizarding families that would have been all too happy to raise young Harry in the Wizarding world, Albus felt it was best for Harry to grow up away from the fans, the fame and grow up as a normal child with a normal childhood, without been in the spotlight every time he left his home.

As he reached the bottom of number fours garden wall, he took a quick look round before he took a seat on the low wall. His trusted friend and the gamekeeper at Hogwarts was bringing young Harry to his Aunts and Uncle's house, as it was not practical to take a one year old through the Floo-network or use the other transport methods of Apparition or Port-key travel.

"Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall." Dumbledore spoke seemingly to himself as there was not another human being to be seen on the street, only a tabby cat sitting on number six's garden wall. A few moments later, said cat had jumped off the wall and transformed into a rather severe-looking woman mid-jump.

"How did you know it was me?" Asked the woman as she walked towards Dumbledore, fixing her square glasses and emerald green cloak to make sure they were on correctly.

"My dear Professor, I've never seen a cat sit so stiffly." Dumbledore answered with a slight soft chuckle as he turned his head slightly to look at McGonagall as she took a seat beside him.

"You'd be stiff if you'd been sitting on a brick wall all day and most of the night." McGonagall replied tartly as she sniffed at the old wizard. "When word reached Hogwarts about last tonight's attack, I knew this is you'd bring the boy." She said, explaining her reason for been in _that_ neighbourhood on _that_ particular night.

"All day, when you could have been celebrating, why I must have passed over a dozen feasts and parties on my way here." Dumbledore mussed softly as he looked up at the empty dark sky; if one listened carefully, you could hear a very faint rumbling noise.

Professor McGonagall sniffed angrily. "Oh yes, everyone's celebrating all right, you'd think they'd be a bit more careful." She said impatiently, before the old wizard could comment she continued.

"People could be a little more careful; I heard it on their news." She jerked her head in the direction of the Dursleys dark living-room window. "Flocks of owls… Shooting stars… well, they're not completely stupid, their bound to notice Shooting stars in Kent- and I'll bet that was Dedalus Diggle. He never did have much sense." Her nostrils flared in her anger and her lips thinned into a very tight line as she finished her little rant.

"You can't blame them Minerva, we've had precious little to celebrate in nearly twelve years." Dumbledore said gently. "It will die down soon, people are just celebrating the fact that hopefully there will be no more death and destruction happening." He explained in a gentle tone that seemed to deflate most of McGonagall's anger.

"I hope you're right." Began McGonagall. "The last thing we need is for the Muggle's to find out about us from people swapping rumours in broad daylight not even dressed as Muggle's." as she said this the Professor threw a sharp sideways look at Dumbledore.

"Are the rumours true? Did Harry really survive the Killing Curse?" McGonagall asked quietly with the slightest disbelief in her voice as she turned her head to look fully at the old wizard.

"Yes, Poppy confirmed it when we went to James and Lily's home." Answered Dumbledore sadly. "All three had been hit with the curse but only Harry survived." He bowed his head silently for the torn-apart family.

"How, how did he survive when no one in history has ever survived _that_ curse?" McGonagall asked in a soft voice, quite unlike the brisk and stern woman.

"As to that I have absolutely no clue." Dumbledore began in a quiet tone. "At first I thought it must have been Lily's love and sacrifice that had protected Harry and then I remembered that countless mothers and fathers have sacrificed their lives to save their children and yet their children had not survived the killing curse from either Voldemort or his Death Eaters, I knew that that could not be the answer." His explanation finished he bowed his head once more, remembering all the lost fighters and innocents in the war against Lord Voldemort.

"Do you have any other theories?" McGonagall asked him quietly.

"A few, each more unlikely than the last." He began before looking up at McGonagall. "Perhaps we may never know how or why Harry survived the killing curse tonight." He mussed softly as McGonagall nodded her agreement of his words.

"Harry will be famous in our world won't he?" asked McGonagall, she would not be surprised if today become known as Harry Potter day in the future.

"Oh yes, Harry will be famous, a hero and a Legend, known the world over." Said Dumbledore in a quiet, sad tone of voice. "

"And that is the reason why I am having him raised with his Muggle Aunt and Uncle. So he can grow up away from all that, famous before he can even walk and talk, it is enough to turn any one's head, he will be much better off away from all that." Dumbledore explained in that same quiet tone of voice as the faint rumbling had begun to grow louder.

"Are these people really the best you can find for him?" Said McGonagall disgustedly. "I've watched them since I arrived and they are the worst sort of Muggle's imaginable, they…"

"Are the only family he has?" Replied Dumbledore, gently interrupting McGonagall. However before either He or McGonagall could speak further, the rumbling that had been growing steadily louder as they had talked suddenly became thunderingly loud; the pair could feel the rumbling in their very bones as their teeth began to chatter slightly until they closed their mouths as they looked up.

Out of the midnight black sky, a huge motorcycle dropped out of the sky and down onto the street and came to a screeching halt in front of Number four's garden wall. Sat astride the motorbike was a huge man, who looked to be too big to be aloud. As the man stood from the bike, it was clear that he was twice as tall as a normal human man and three times as wide. The huge man had wild, bushy, tangled black hair and beard, when he removed the goggles from over his eyes; he revealed crinkly beetle-black eyes topped by very bushy eyebrows.

"Good evening Professor Dumbledore sir, Professor McGonagall." Greeted the large man as he got off the bike (which stood up on its own accord) and walked over to the now standing Professor's.

"Good evening Hagrid, no problems I trust." Dumbledore greeted the large man with a gentle smile. The headmaster was quiet tall standing a little over six foot; however, he was dwarfed by Hagrid's height.

"No sir, the little tyke fell asleep right as we were flying over Bristol." Hagrid replied in as quiet a voice as he could, so as not to wake the sleeping baby that was settled snuggly in a baby sling attached to his massive chest.

Dumbledore peered into the sling; just visible was a shock of untidy black hair and a forehead, which had a curiously shaped scar, in the shape of a lightning bolt. The scar was very raw and red, showing just how new it was.

"Is that where-?" Whispered McGonagall as she took notice of the scar.

"Yes, that is where the killing curse struck him." Said Dumbledore sadly as he too looked at the scar. "He'll have that scar forever." He sighed slightly as the boy moved his head slightly, burrowing deeper into Hagrid's chest.

"Couldn't you do something about it?"

"Even if I could I wouldn't, scars can come in useful. I myself have a scar above my left knee that is a perfect map of the London Underground." Dumbledore did not like lying to his oldest friend but he would rather lie then tell the true reason why, he wouldn't or rather couldn't remove the scar on Harry's head, and it wasn't just because it was a curse scar from Dark Magic.

"Well, pass him here Hagrid we may as well get this over with." Hagrid as gently as he could passed Harry into Dumbledore's arms, successfully not waking the baby as he did so. Dumbledore turned and began heading towards the front door of number four, followed by McGonagall and Hagrid.

"Could I – could I say goodbye to him?" Hagrid asked quietly as they reached the front door.

"Of course." Replied Dumbledore as he turned to the large man, some of his eye twinkle coming back into his eyes for the first time since he had found out about Voldemort's attack on the Potter's.

Hagrid then bent his great shaggy head over Harry and gave him a very scratchy, whiskery yet surprisingly tender kiss. "Take care of yourself Harry." He whispered before moving away chocking back a loud sob.

Dumbledore then placed Harry on the doorstep and tucked a letter into his blanket before casting a warming charm on the baby.

"Good luck Harry." McGonagall whispered to the baby knowing he would need all the luck he could get. She nodded to Dumbledore before she turned and followed Hagrid down the garden path back onto the street.

After a few seconds Dumbledore joined them on the street and bid them both goodbye as McGonagall vanished on the spot and Hagrid got back on the bike and took to the skies once more.

Once McGonagall and Hagrid had left, Dumbledore removed his wand from his robes and began waving it towards the house.

"_Cave Inimicum_." "_Protego horribilis_." "_Protego Maxima_." "_Fianto Duri_." "_Repello Inimicum_." "_Protego totalum_." "_Salvio hexia_." Once he was done with his protective enchantments Dumbledore then began casting The Anti-Apparition and the Anti-Disapparition Jinx, along with the Anti-intruder jinx.

Once all the standard protective enchantments were up and around the house, Dumbledore, calmed himself and his breathing as he entered his magical centre and began gathering his magic. The reason for this was that the last bit of protection he had to offer young Harry took enormous power and control.

As his magic reached its peak, the aged headmaster unleashed with his final protective spell.

"_Quam sanguinis speciem_." A deep golden light left his wand and began spreading over Number Four, Privet Drive. His wand vibrated violently in his hand and sweat poured from his forehead but Albus held onto the charm as the house and garden were completely covered in the golden shield, but it did not stop there, for once the house and garden were covered, the shield began expanding outwards to cover the neighbourhood. For ten minutes this went on until the house was protected by the shield for a mile in each and every direction.

Once the shield was finished, Dumbledore bent over with his hands on his knees panting heavily, sweat pouring from his forehead and his beard and hair soaking with sweat, plastered to his head but it was done, and Harry was more protected than Hogwarts with the Bond of Blood Charm.

"Be safe Harry." Albus whispered to the sleeping baby before he turned on the spot and vanished from Privet Drive back to Hogwarts for a well-earned sleep.

_Ten years later_

Over the next ten years, Harry was not treated with the love that Dumbledore had hoped and wanted, But with disdain, loathing and hatred. From the moment he had arrived, he lived in the cupboard under the stairs and until he started eating solids, he was only fed two bottles of very weak milk a day, and when he started eating solids he was fed two meals a day. A small lumpy bowl of porridge in the mornings and small portion of leftovers for dinner, for lunch he received one slice of dry bread and a glass of water. When he turned four, he was forced to do all the cleaning in the house, every single day and if he missed a spot or a room was not to his Aunt's or Uncle's standards, he would be slapped by either his aunt or uncle before been thrown in his cupboard with no food until the next day. On his fifth birthday, he was forced to do all the gardening along with all the chores around the house, and god forbid if he damaged any of his aunts precious plants. As he got older, the beatings steadily got worse, when he was six his uncle had hit him so hard that he had bounced off the wall before hitting the ground with a concussion and then he had been thrown into his cupboard for three whole days without food or water. All he had done was make his uncle jump as he came out of the bathroom.

Harry learned very early on with the Dursleys to hide his emotions; if he cried during a beating it only made it worse; if he scowled or looked at any of them in a wrong way he was slapped; he was even slapped for smiling as his Aunt and Uncle proclaimed that he could only be up to no good when he was smiling. Yes, Harry Potter learned very early in his life to keep a blank, cold mask on his face wherever he went or whoever he was around be it _family_, teacher or stranger, Harry's face was a cold blank mask with icy eyes.

He learned also very early that when it came to his schooling, he would get a severe beating no matter what his grades were like. For example, he had scored the best in his class in a math's test and when his aunt had found out, she had hit him with a frying pan she had been holding at the time, screaming it was all his fault that her precious Dudley had received such low marks in his maths class (Harry and Dudley had different classes). That had resulted in his right arm been broken in two places which took months to heal as the Dursleys refused to take him to hospital, only getting him a sling for the broken arm which had forced him to write with his left arm, after a few weeks he had perfected his writing with his left arm and as a result he was now Ambidextrous.

Another example of his schooling beatings had been his uncle beating him after finding out he had done the worst in his year in an English test. After the broken arm from his Aunt, Harry had thought that they did not want him to do well and so to stop some of the beatings, he had deliberately flunked his English test. His uncle had taken his belt to Harry's bare back, for over five minutes, all the while screaming about how stupid and worthless he was. After that he had realized that they did not truly care about his grades, they were just another excuse for giving him another beating, as if the needed an excuse in the first place. And so he had begun to study as hard as he could while at school, using the library as a sort of safe haven from his bullying cousin and his gang of thugs; by the time he was eight, his teachers wanted to bump him up to the year ahead; however Harry had been able to talk them out of that as it would result in nothing but trouble with the Dursleys.

As well as been cold and emotionless, Harry was also a very charming boy when he wanted to be. He had managed to charm his teachers into giving him his monthly report cards, promising up and down that his Aunt and uncle would receive them as soon as he arrived home, he happily binned the cards as he walked home. He had also charmed his teachers into giving him the letters about parents' evenings, stating that the letters would reach his Aunt and Uncle faster if he delivered them in person which gave the Dursleys time to make sure they were completely free that evening. The letters too were dropped into a bin and after parents evening had come and gone and the Dursleys had not attended, Harry always had the perfect excuse. His uncle had a very important dinner or party of his company's that he simply could not miss. Or a family member was terribly sick or the best, Dudley in his rush had taken a nasty fall and they all went to hospital with him. His teachers never batted an eyelash as he explained his family missing parents evening with a completely honest look and air about him, promising that the Dursleys were very sorry for missing another evening and that they had promised to attend the next parents' evening; they never did nor would they ever attend one. The best part about it was Harry and Dudley had different teachers so when the Dursleys attended Dudley's parents evening, they never bumped into any of Harry's teachers.

However it was not all bad, excluding the one meal a day and beatings, Harry was able to get some small payback on his Aunt, Uncle and Cousin. Once a week, starting from when he was six, he would steal fifty pounds from his uncle's permanently bulging wallet that he left in the living room, thinking Harry would be too scared to steal anything from him. He also stole fifty pounds from his Aunts also permanently bulging purse that she left in the kitchen and ten pounds from his fat-ass Cousin who left his wallet beside the television where he could always find it the next day. Every day, Harry would walk to school and buy himself a sandwich for his lunch, a protein bar, a packet of crisps and a bottle of fruit juice. He would always save the rest of the money he did not spend on his lunch for the weekends when he would go to the local cinema as well as the amusement and water parks; so by the time he reached ten years old, Harry had managed to save over three hundred pounds. Which he hid in an old sock after changing the coins into notes. He had no fear of anyone finding them as only he cleaned his cupboard.

As well as stealing money from his family, Harry would steal some food at night when his relatives were asleep in bed, only been unable to steal food when he was beaten and locked in his cupboard. Most of the time when he was not beaten, his cupboard would be left unlocked so he could use the toilet in the cellar and mainly so he could have breakfast ready for them in the mornings when they came down to the kitchen. So instead of been an undernourished, boy, Harry was quite the healthy young lad.

Along with the running from his cousin and his gang of thugs during "_Harry Hunting_" he would sneak out and go for a run every morning before he had to start breakfast, where he usually made himself grilled bacon and sausage sandwiches before his "_family_" came down for breakfast, eating away as he cooked.

When he turned nine, Harry started doing press-ups and sit-ups, he only did twenty of each a day but it was better than any of the other students at his school. Moreover, when his cousin became interested in boxing halfway through his eighth year of living with the Dursleys and his uncle got him a small set of weights; Harry would use them every morning. As he reached ten years old, Harry was quite tall for his age at four foot nine, and weighing around eighty pounds. His shoulders and chest were quite broad, most if not all of his muscles were solid (Though not too big to be noticed) with not an ounce of fat on him. The old and worn baggy clothes that he wore helped to hide his well-toned body as well. He knew it was very unusual for some his age to have such a toned and fit body but he had one passion, to better than the Dursley men, never would he allow himself to become so fat and lazy.

On his eleventh birthday, Harry was just finishing up vacuuming the staircase for the third time that week when a loud knocking sounded at the door.

"Boy, answer the door and if it's a salesman or charity tell them to clear off." Vernon Shouted from his seat in front of the television, it was one of the fat man's rare weekdays off.

Harry opened the door without replying to his uncle. On the threshold he found a rather severe-looking woman dressed in a peculiar outfit. She was wearing a jet-black cloak over forest green robes; on her head was a pointed witch's hat. On her lined face were square glasses and she had styled her black, greying hair into a tight bun.

"Hello Madam, how may I help you?" Harry asked in a cool flat voice, hardly blinking at the woman's attire.

"Good morning, might you be Harry Potter." McGonagall asked as she held back a scowl at Harry's overlarge t-shirt and jeans and the sello-taped glasses.

"Before I confirm or deny that Madam, who might be asking." Harry asked in cold defensive voice. He was ready to bolt should the woman be from the "loony-bin" as the Dursleys called it and had threatened Harry with, stating he would be locked up in a padded room and the key thrown away.

"I'm Professor McGonagall and I work at Hogwarts School." Answered McGonagall in a gentle tone noting Harry's suddenly defensive voice and his stance, that quiet clearly said he was prepared to run if need be.

"Ok goody for you, what is it that you want with Harry Potter?" Harry asked still not confirming that he was Harry Potter.

"I have come to offer him a place at Hogwarts School." McGonagall replied, she was quiet sure that the young man in front of her was Harry Potter.

"Well you best come in then." Harry said as he stood back to allow the woman entry into the house.

"Thank you." McGonagall nodded as she stepped into the, in her opinion far too clean hallway.

"Who is it?" Petunia demanded from the living-room.

"Some Professor or so she claims." Harry answered coolly as he led the woman into the living-room. He was very surprised when his Aunt and Uncle gasped at the sight of her, both turning quiet pale.

"What do you want?" Petunia asked in a fearful voice though she already knew the answer.

"A private talk with Mr Potter here." Answered McGonagall as she gestured to a surprised Harry. Vernon and Petunia were about to protest loudly, however McGonagall had slipped her wand into her hand and the Dursleys left muttering to themselves, they did not want to be on the wrong end of a wand nor the Professor judging by the burning look she gave them

"Here Mr Potter." McGonagall held out a letter to Harry once the Dursleys had left and she had turned her attention back to the blank-faced Harry. After a moment's hesitation, Harry took the letter and upon opening it, began to read.

_Dear Mr Potter,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Deputy Headmistress_

Turning to the second page Harry began to read that one silently, paying no mind to the woman who had seated herself in Vernon's chair and was watching his expression as he stood reading. She expected confusion, shock, outright denial or any other range of emotions to appear over Harry's face, however, his expression remained blank.

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL_

_Of WHICHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

_UNIFORM_

_First-year students will require:_

_1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)_

_2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear_

_3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)_

_4. One winter cloak (black, with silver fastenings)_

_Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags._

_COURSE BOOKS_

_All students should have a copy of each of the following:_

_The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)_

_By Miranda Goshawk_

_A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot_

_Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling_

_A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch_

_One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_

_By Phyllida Spore_

_Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger_

_Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_

_By Newt Scamander_

_The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_

_By Quentin Trimble_

_OTHER EQUIPMENT_

_1 wand_

_1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)_

_1 set glass or crystal phials_

_1 telescope_

_1 set brass scales_

_Students may also bring and owl OR a cat OR a toad._

_PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS_

"I knew that I was special and not a freak." Harry whispered to himself as he finished reading.

"So I'm a wizard then?" he asked as he looked up at the Professor who was looking back at him, clearly not expecting him to ask that first.

"Yes Mr Potter, you are indeed a Wizard." McGonagall then went on to explain that wizards were hidden from the (Muggle) none magical world. She explained a little bit about Hogwarts and the houses there. She was very surprised that Harry accepted all this without wanting a demonstration as proof that what she was telling him was the truth.

"Ok Potter, that's enough for now, there will be time for questions later." McGonagall said an hour later even though Harry had asked only three questions.

"I shall escort you to Diagon Alley where you will Purchase…" she stopped mid explanation as Harry interrupted her.

"You're coming with me?" Harry interrupted with a slight scowl.

"Certainly…" She was interrupted once more.

"I don't need you." Said Harry. "I'm used to doing things on my own; I go around little Whinging and Surrey on my own all the time. How do you get to this Diagon Alley – Madam?" he added the last almost as an afterthought to appear polite.

For a moment Professor McGonagall was going to insist she accompany Harry to the Alley but taking one look at his face she knew he would not budge in his decision to make the trip alone and would most likely be most difficult if she forced him to go with her. After a moment she told him exactly how to get to the Leaky Cauldron. "You will be able to see it, although Muggle's that is none Magicals around you will not. Ask for Tom the barman and he will help you get through the archway into Diagon Alley."

Harry nodded his head as she finished her explanation. Then, as though he could not suppress the question, as though it burst from him in spite of himself, he asked. "Were my parents Magical too?"

"Yes, you're mother and father was both Magicals." McGonagall replied, her voice once more gentle.

"Then how did they die in a car crash?" Harry demanded to know in a cold tone. "If they were wizards, why did they not save themselves from the car crash?" his tone and eyes demanded the absolute truth be answered quickly.

"Car Crash?" McGonagall asked raising her eyebrows at both Harry's question and tone of voice.

"I was told that's how they died by them." He jabbed his thumb towards the door the Dursleys had left through when McGonagall first arrived.

"James and Lily Potter were not killed in a car crash; they were murdered by the Dark Lord, He-Who-Must-Not-be-Named." McGonagall was incensed to learn that Harry did not even know how his own parents died.

For one fleeting moment, Harry's face was a mask of hate and anger, his eyes burned with an emerald fire but in the blink of an eye his emotionless mask was firmly in place and his eyes once more icy. McGonagall blinked, unsure if Harry's facial expression had even changed at all or if she had imagined the hate and anger.

"So – when I've got all my stuff – when do I come to this Hogwarts?" Harry asked completely changing the subject.

"All the details are on the second piece of parchment." McGonagall began. "You will leave from Kings cross station on the first of September. There is a ticket in there too, with instructions on how to get onto the platform." She then handed him a tiny gold key, explaining how it was the key to his trust vault and how he should first visit Gringotts the wizard bank upon arrival at the Alley. She explained how the bank was the tallest building, made from white marble at the end of the Ally and how it would take a blind man to miss it.

Harry nodded. McGonagall got to her feet and held out her hand to Harry, who after a moment shook it firmly. "I can talk to snakes, I found out last year when weeding the garden, they find me and talk to me, is that normal for a wizard?"

McGonagall knew that, Harry had withheld mention of that strange power until that moment, determined to impress. "It is unusual." She responded after a moment forcing herself not to grow pale at the mention of talking to snakes. "But not unheard of." She knew that most wizards who were able to talk to snakes were or went Dark, the most famous two (Voldemort and Slytherin) were two of the most powerful and evil Dark Lords of their times. Was Harry Potter destined to be a powerful, evil Dark Lord?

End of chapter

AN: _So how was it? Please give you thoughts on how/if this start and is better or worse than the first story. And yes most of Harry's talk with McGonagall was ripped right from the Tom Riddle and Albus Dumbledore scene in the HBP book; this is because I want to make Harry and Voldemort even more similar than in cannon. Also I didn't have the Dursleys kick up a stink about McGonagall because I just wanted to get on with Harry being told about being a wizard._


	2. Gringotts

**Gringotts**

After two hours and two bus rides Harry found himself standing outside the leaky Cauldron. The pub was nested between a bookshop and a record store, Harry watched as passers-by looked from the bookshop to the record store their eyes completely passing over the pub as though it was not even there, he supposed a charm or something was on the pub to stop Muggles entering.

Upon entering the pub Harry took a look around and noticed that the place was very dark and shabby. A few old women were sitting in a corner, drinking tiny glasses of sherry. One of them was smoking a long pipe. A little man in a top hat was talking to the old barman, who was quite bald and looked like a gummy walnut.

However, Harry failed to notice a young man with very pale skin and light blue eyes; who was hidden in a dark shadowy corner and watching Harry's every move, as he watched Harry move towards the bar and speak to Tom the barkeep, his blue eyes flashed a crimson red and his face was sinister glare as he watched Harry and Tom leave through the backdoor that lead to Diagon Alley.

"Thank you for your help." Harry thanked Tom with a polite bow of the head as he turned and headed through the archway leading into Diagon Alley.

"You're welcome young sir." Tom called with a toothless smile before he turned around and headed back into his pub.

As he looked around, Harry spotted a cauldron shop, next to that was the Apothecary potions store. Further down he saw the Daily Prophet offices, he assumed that was some kind of newspaper printing company or some such, the name sure sounded like that to Harry. Everywhere he looked, there were different shops, from Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor to Flourish & Blotts book store, and from Gambol & Japes joke shop to Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. He spotted the huge white building McGonagall had described and headed towards it, still looking round at all the various shops and the people bustling from shop to shop.

As he reached the bottom of the stairs leading up to the front doors of the bank he nodded to the creatures that were bowing him inside; completely missing their surprised looks at his show of respect to them. As he walked through the second set of doors, silver this time Harry nodded to two more creatures bowing him inside and he read a sign on the door.

_Enter, stranger, but take heed  
>Of what awaits the sin of greed<br>For those who take, but do not earn,  
>Must pay most dearly in their turn.<br>So if you seek beneath our floors  
>A treasure that was never yours,<br>Thief, you have been warned, beware  
>Of finding more than treasure there.<em>

"Sounds like you don't want to try and rob this place." Harry muttered to himself as he passed through the silver doors, causing the two goblins who had heard him to snort in amusement at his, in their opinion, huge understatement.

Looking around the vast marble hall, Harry could not help but be impressed with the splendour, black and white marble square tiles on the floor, light marble walls and a huge long counter where about a hundred more of the strange creatures were stood behind, counting strange gold coins, precious gems and other things. Walking up to a free teller, he stood quietly, respectfully waiting to be acknowledged.

"What can I help you with?" The creature asked him a short time later finally acknowledging him. He was surprised at the Human's show of respect but he decided to go with it and show the young child the same respect.

"I'd like to make a withdrawal from my vault please." Harry replied in cool polite tone as he passed his key to the creature, who took it and examined it closely before passing it back.

"Very well Mr Potter." The creature said as he passed the key back to Harry, who placed it back in his pocket. He then called over his shoulder in a language Harry could not understand.

"Pardon the rudeness and I mean no disrespect to yourself, but I was raised by Muggle's and was wondering what type of being you are?" Harry asked in as polite a tone of voice as he could to try and convey that he meant no disrespect.

"I, like my co-workers are from a race known in the Wizarding world as Goblins." Replied the Goblin before another Goblin next to Harry.

"This way sir." The Goblin said to Harry motioning for him to follow.

"Thank you for your help." Harry said to the teller before he followed the other goblin across the hall and through a set of double doors. In contrast to the grand marble of the entryway and the main hall, the passageways to the vaults were stone and dimly lit with flaming torches. The path sloped down to a track upon which little carts sat.

"These carts controlled by us goblins. These carts take visitors deep beneath the surface of the earth, through a "maze of twisting passages," to the vaults." The goblin explained as he and Harry climbed into a cart and took a seat.

Seconds later the cart took off, what the goblin failed to mention was that the carts go very quickly and prevents its occupants from getting a good look at their surroundings, and seemed to run on a vast, complex, interconnected series of tracks that allow them to move to and between any vaults. Minutes later the cart slowed down before coming to a stop outside a vault door.

"Vault 687, the Potter trust vault." Said the goblin as he and Harry got out of the cart and headed towards the vault.

"Trust vault, does that mean there is another vault of my families." Harry asked as he came to a stop in front of the door, above which was the family name in gold lettering, "POTTER"

"Why of course, there is the family vault." Answered the goblin as he looked at Harry with a frown. "Surely you already knew that."

"Sorry but no, I only found out about the Wizarding world a few hours ago." Harry replied quietly.

"Ah right, well how about a bit of history." The goblin motioned Harry over to a bench and took a seat before he began his tale.

"Gringotts Wizarding Bank is the only bank of the Wizarding world, and is owned  
>and operated by goblins. It was created by a goblin called Gringott, in 1474. The bank was then put in the hands of the Ministry of Magic at an unspecified time, although by the 1500s it already had some degree of Wizarding management — Tertius applied for the job of Curse-Breaker to two wizards who were discussing job vacancies at the door to Gringotts. In 1865, the Ministry decided to put full control of Gringotts back in goblin hands."<p>

"When Gringott first built this bank he got help from two local families, the Potter's and Blacks, and the Blacks had just emigrated from Norway and decided to help by reinforcing every single brick with Protective enchantments. The Potter's on the other hand placed some of the strongest wards over the building once it was built."

"The Potters and the Blacks were the first customers of the bank and so received the first vaults, the Potters got Vault number one and the Blacks vault two."

"Peverell was the surname of a medieval pure-blood Wizarding family, the record of anyone with that name comes from William Peverell who was a commander in the king's security force in 412, over a thousand years before Gringotts bank was built."

"500 years before Gringotts bank was built Ignotus Peverell's granddaughter Beatrix Peverell married Lord Hadrian James Potter who had shortened his father's last name of Pottersmen when he moved from Greece to Britannia."

"Wow I'm named after the first Potter in England." Harry smiled slightly, he thought it was cool that he was named after the Original Potter.

"Yes, only the third Hadrian James Potter in your families long history. And if you take after your two ancestors then you will be extremely powerful." The Goblin said as he stood from his seat, his tale over.

"Is there a way to find out how powerful I am?" Harry asked as he passed his key to the Goblin, who inserted it into the keyhole and unlocked his vault. As the door swung open, a large amount of green mist came billowing out.

"Gringotts offer a simple test that you can take at any time so long as you pay the fee." Replied the Goblin as Harry entered the vault.

Harry nearly gasped aloud at the sight of all the gold within, however he managed to keep his emotions in check. From floor to ceiling, the vault was piled with gold coins. Picking up a piece of yellowing parchment, Harry read.

_Potter family trust vault_

_100'000 galleons_

_To be capped off yearly_

_Transactions_

_5/08/1980 25,800 Hogwarts (7 years tuition) paid by Lord James Alexander Potter _

"Why would my father pay for my tuition to Hogwarts only a few days after I was born?" Harry asked as he picked up a bag from a pile that claimed them to be bottomless and feather light.

"Ah yes, I remember that well, Lord Potter had come to Gringotts to make his will and pay your school fee due to the fact that you had showed strong magic just days after your birth by summoning your father's Golden Snitch out of the air." Explained the Goblin as he watched Harry begin to pile gold into his pouch.

Harry smiled to himself at the thought of using magic just days after his birth, he must be powerful to be able to do that, surely it wasn't common place for magical babies to use magic days after their births.

"Can I visit my family vault and afterwards take the test to see how powerful I am?" Harry asked the goblin as he exited the trust vault.

"Of course but I must warn you that you cannot take money from your family vault until you reach the age of 15 when you take over as head of your family and your parents will is read." The Goblin replied as he locked the door and handed Harry the key.

"Very well, who is the head of my family at the moment?" Harry asked as they walked over to the cart.

"Nobody, for all intents and purposes your family is dormant, nobody can do anything in the name of your family until you come of age, no money can be removed from your vault only added, and nobody can use your vote on the Wizengamot until you take over your family." Explained the Goblin as he and Harry got into the cart.

"How come money can be added?" Harry asked as the cart took off, though not nearly as fast as the ride down.

"Because before your father died, he had invested money into various companies and at the end of the business year any profit from the investments is placed into your family vault." The Goblin explained patiently.

"I see." Nodded Harry who was quiet pleased his father had invested money to make sure money was always coming into the family vault should he die, which of course he had.

"How much is the test to find out how powerful I am." Harry asked as they came to stop outside of another vault, which also had the Potter name over the door which instead of brass like the trust vault was gold in colour and if Harry were to guess was made from real gold. On the wall next to the door was a very faded number one.

"The test costs just 40 galleons." The Goblin replied as he got out of the cart followed by Harry and walked over to the vault door. "Place your hand here, do not be alarmed by the small sting you feel, Potter blood and Goblin magic is required to open this vault."

"That's a reasonable price." Harry nodded as he placed his hand in the exact centre of the door. Seconds later he felt a sharp sting in the palm of his hand and at the same time the Goblin ran his finger from the bottom of Harry's hand to the bottom of the door, seconds later there was a flash of light before the door melted away.

"If anyone but a Gringotts goblin and a blood relation of the Potter family tried that, the person would be sucked into the vault, which is checked for trapped thieves about once per decade." The Goblin commented offhandedly as Harry entered the Vault, who was now half expecting someone to be trapped inside the vault, there wasn't thankfully.

Harry gasped in shock unable to reframe himself from doing so as he saw the enormous pile of gold coins. "H-how much…?"

"Let's see." Muttered the Goblin as he picked up a yellowing scroll of parchment and a leather black folder. "At last count, this was yesterday; your vault contains just over two hundred million galleons."

"You must remember that your family has been using this vault since the very first day the bank was opened to the public this is a very long time for them to build up a lot of wealth and interest." Harry nodded numbly as he walked slowly into the vault and began looking around.

As he reached the back of the vault he found a letter with his name on it, he picked it up thinking and hoping that it was a letter to him from his parents. After opening the letter he was very, surprised as he read the contents.

_**"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies ... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not ... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives ... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies ..."**_

_"Hi Harry, it your mum here. I'm sorry to have to inform you, but you are destined to kill or be killed by the Dark Lord Voldemort. But don't let this Prophecy rule your life, Harry. You must enjoy your life, make friends, date girls and most importantly, have fun."_

_Harry, it's your father; my piece of advice is different from your mothers, while I want you to have fun, prank people and woo the girls, I also want you to take care and train for your eventual battle with Voldemort. _

_Remember Voldemort is the most powerful dark wizard of the modern age, not even Dumbledore can match him in power and skill so unless you can beat Dumbledore in a duel then you are NOT ready to try and beat Voldemort. I am however, confident that you CAN and WILL one day beat the bastard. But until then train as hard as you can but remember to LIVE your life but NEVER trust anyone completely as even the last person you would ever expect to, CAN betray you, trust me on this. "__**Constant vigilance**__!" as my Auror trainer Moody would roar after firing a spell at me._

_Live your life but NEVER let your guard down for even a second._

_Love always, _

_James and Lily Potter (Mum and Dad)_

For half an hour, Harry sat in a dustsheet covered chair, digesting the fact that he had only just put one foot into the Wizarding world and yet he was destined to battle some Dark Lord Voldemort. After a while he came to accept that that was just another part of his life and that if he was to battle this Dark Lord, who was very powerful and skilled, according to his father, then he, Harry Potter, would have to become very powerful and skilled also. He stood up and began searching the vault for anything that might help him with that.

He found a full trunks worth of books on magic that he decided he was going to begin learning from, such as. A beginners guide to Ancient Runes, Charms for beginners, an introduction into Defence Against the Dark Arts, Potions, how they work and guide to becoming a beginner. There were ten books on potions from the guide to becoming a beginner to becoming a master. There were also all the books to becoming a master in DADA, Charms and Ancient Runes; there was also a series of books on Transfiguration and the mind arts and finding your magical centre. For over an hour, Harry searched the vault for books to help become skilled in magic, he also searched for wands but no such luck.

"Sorry for taking so long in there." Harry said to the goblin who had taken a seat on the bench outside the vault.

"No problem Mr Potter, I've quiet enjoyed a good rest from the hustle and bustle of the bank." Replied the goblin with a grin. "Would you like me to shrink your trunk?" he asked Harry who was pulling a trunk behind him that looked heavy just to pull let alone carry.

"Yes please." Harry nodded as he fully exited the vault and the door reappeared behind him.

With a wave of his hand the Goblin shrank Harrys trunk and made it feather light. "When you get your wand and want to access you things, just tap the trunk once, the feather light charm will remain." He explained as he stood from his seat and walked over to harry who had placed the trunk in his overlarge pants pocket.

"Thank you." Nodded Harry in gratitude. "Now how about that power test."

"No problem, first you must know the different levels of power." Began the Goblin as he and Harry got back into the cart which set off back to the surface. "The classes of power start from Muggle who has no magic whatsoever, then there is the squib who has a sliver of magic but cannot use magic like your everyday magic user."

"Then you have a Wizard whose power ranges from 30 – 100, next we have the Warlock whose power ranges from 100 – 150, next we have the Sorcerer whose power ranges from 150 – 200, next there is the Grand-Sorcerer whose power ranges from 200 – 250, next is Mage whose power ranges from 250 – 300, next is the Grand-Mage whose power ranges from 300 – 350, next we have the Battle-mage whose power ranges from 350 – 400, next we have the Grand Battle-Mage whose power ranges from 400 – 500.

"Wow, so how do you determine how powerful somebody is?" Harry asked as he and the goblin exited the cart back at the start of the track and began walking back towards the main bank hallway.

"We have a special wand that was crafted by Merlin himself and you fire a predetermined spell at a board which will then give your score." Explained the goblin.

"What score did Merlin get do you know?" Harry asked as they crossed the lobby of the bank and entered a door that lead to a bare room with nothing but a white board and a long thin wand sat upon a raised podium.

For an answer the goblin pointed to the very top of the scoreboard.

_**Merlin, year 993, score 589**_

"Wow that's an impressive score, what class did Merlin fall into." Harry asked as he stared up at the score of the most famous, powerful wizard of all time, even Muggle's knew of Merlin.

"Merlin got a class all his own, ArchMage." Replied the goblin with a grin at Harry who was still staring up at the score as most wizards did when they saw Merlin's score. "Nobody since Merlin has scored more than 500."

"What score did Dumbledore and Voldemort get? Harry asked as he finally tore his gaze from Merlin's score.

"Dumbledore scored 351 and the Dark Lord has never taken the test so we don't know just how powerful he may be." Replied the Goblin as he picked up the wand and passed it to Harry.

Quickly, Harry pointed the wand at the white scoreboard and as he did so a bright white light flew from the tip of the wand and impacted upon the board which flashed black before a number was displayed along with his name and the year.

_**Harry Potter, year 1991, score 481 **_

"WOW I'm a grand battle-Mage, I'm more powerful than Dumbledore." Harry grinned in delight as his ego grew just a little, but he held no delusions, even though he was more powerful than Dumbledore, Harry had no doubt that the Headmaster would soundly defeat him in a fight at this point in time but in time when he had trained his magic and skill, Harry had no doubt that he would be able to soundly beat the Headmaster.

_End of chapter 2_

_So what do you all think of this 2__nd__ chapter of my rewrite? Please review!_


	3. Diagon Alley

_AN: Thank you "_**The Dark Lord Andros**_" for that welcome back to fanfiction and thank you all for the reviews so far, here's the third chapter._

**Diagon Alley **

_Headmasters' office, Hogwarts._

Albus Dumbledore sat behind his desk in his office at Hogwarts, he was currently going over files and papers, making sure that everything was in order for the new school year, that was just over a month away. He was therefore, very surprised when the wards on the staircase leading up to his office alerted him to Professor McGonagall's approach, as he glanced at the grandfather cloak opposite his desk, he frowned, McGonagall should have still been shopping with young Harry Potter for a few more hours yet.

"Come in Minerva." He called before McGonagall could even knock on his door. The door opened to reveal a quiet pale McGonagall.

"Is everything alright my dear?" Dumbledore asked as he shifted papers aside while motioning the Professor into an empty chair in front of his desk.

"Define alright." McGonagall muttered as she dropped almost bonelessly into a chair which was very unlike her. "I've just come back from informing Harry Potter about Hogwarts and his acceptance here." Her voice seemed to tremble slightly as she spoke.

"Is young Harry alright?" Dumbledore asked gently but with slight worry in his voice, wondering just what could have caused this change in behaviour in his strict instructor.

"I think you should get your pensive and judge for yourself." McGonagall muttered in a tired sounding voice. "It is hard to put into words my meeting with young Harry."

The Headmaster nodded his head in agreement as he stood from his chair and quickly strode to the cabinet containing his pensive, now very worried about what he might see. Once McGonagall had placed her memory into the device he dived in to watch. When he emerged some time later, McGonagall was worried to note that he was very pale, sweaty and his hands seemed to tremble as he slid bonelessly into his chair, staring blankly at the desk.

"It was almost like watching my own memory." Dumbledore muttered as he began pulling his wits together again. "The meeting you just had was almost exactly how my first meeting with Tom Riddle went when I first informed him about being a wizard, right down to informing you about being able to talk to snakes just before you left."

"Did he also want to shop for his school supplies alone?" McGonagall knew just who Tom Riddle grew up to be, they were sorted into their houses in the same year after-all.

"He did." Dumbledore answered as he stood from his chair. "I must show this memory and mine to Severus, we can't afford to antagonize Harry Potter, if we do, we could have a Dark Lord on our hands far more terrible than Voldemort and Grindelwald put together." McGonagall gasped aloud at those words as Dumbledore called Potions master Severus Snape into his office via the Floo-network.

"You wished to see me Headmaster?" Snape asked in his silky smooth voice after he had stepped through the fireplace. Snape was a tall, thin man with sallow skin, a large, hooked nose, his jet-black hair was greasy-looking and reached his shoulders and framed his face, his jet-black eyes were cold and reminded one of tunnels.

"Yes Severus I wished to show you two memories and have a little chat if you don't mind." Dumbledore commented as he placed a memory from his own head into the pensive and motioned for Snape to enter.

"Very well Headmaster." Snape may have been a cold hearted bastard but he trusted Dumbledore with his life and that was why he entered the pensive without question. He emerged sometime later even paler than he normally was.

"That first memory was of the Dark Lord as a boy wasn't it." Snape commented as he took a seat next to McGonagall. "And the second was of Harry Potter." He seemed to deflate as the Headmaster nodded his head confirming his worst fear. He had been expecting the young Potter to arrive at Hogwarts an arrogant, pampered prince just like his father. He had been gearing up to knocking the boy down a few pegs and instead he was faced with possibly of yet _another_ Dark Lord.

"What do you want me to do Headmaster?" He asked finally looking back up at the old wizard.

"I want you and all the other heads of house to keep a very close eye on Harry Potter." Dumbledore replied. "Harry must not be antagonized enough to turn to the Dark Arts, he must see that the "Light-side" is the better path to walk." Both McGonagall and Snape nodded, the later had not expected Harry Potter to end up in his house, but now after watching those memories, even he had to admit that Harry Potter was the Perfect candidate to be a Slytherin.

_Diagon Alley_

One of Albus Dumbledore's worst fears had already happened as Harry Potter had just purchased a selection of books on the Dark Arts, in a bookstore in Borgin and Burkes. Harry wanted to learn anything and everything he could about this new world of magic he was entering. And not to mention, if he was to battle a Dark Lord in the future, then he would need more than just Defence against the Dark Arts, he would also need the Dark Arts themselves, so he could fight fire with fire. In Harry's mind, the more magic he knew, the more skilled he would become.

"One day soon, I'll be known as the greatest Sorcerer in the world." He muttered to himself with a smirk before he entered the robe shop, Madam Malkin's and he adopted his blank mask once more.

"Hogwarts dear?" asked a grey haired woman who had come out from the back room upon hearing the shop bell ring. She was dressed in a light blue robe and looked like a favoured aunt with her kind smile and her plump build.

"Yes Ma'am." Harry answered with a short bow of his head.

"This way my dear." She smiled motioning Harry to follow her into the backroom.

As he entered the back room he noticed a blonde haired boy with a pale, slightly pointed face stood on a stool getting measured by another shop assistant.

"Hullo." Said the boy "Hogwarts too?" he asked Harry as he was directed to step onto a stool next to the boy.

"Yes." Answered Harry as the woman began to take his measurements, he kept his tone polite but his answer short and gave nothing away about only just finding out about the Wizarding world.

"Father's next door buying my books." Continued the boy obviously not bothered by Harry's one worded answer. "And mother's up the street looking at wands." The boy had a drawling voice that was quickly getting on Harry's nerves. "Once I'm done here, I think I'll drag them up to the Quidditch shop to look at racing brooms."

"Do you play?" Harry asked, he figured it was a good way to find some information on the boy, however small that information might be, and it also gave him a chance to find out just what the hell Quidditch was.

"Yeah, I play the seeker position, though I'm not too bad at the chaser position." The boy bragged puffing out his chest slightly. He then went on a big rant about Quidditch.

Harry found out that Quidditch is a Wizarding sport played on broomsticks. That is was the most popular game among wizards and witches, the object of the game is to score more points than your opponents. Each goal is worth ten points and catching the Snitch is worth one-hundred fifty points. The game ends when the Snitch is caught or an agreement is reached between the captains of both teams. Some games can go on for many days if the Snitch is not caught, apparently the record was three months.

"So sorry, I've been prattling on for the last five minutes and I haven't even introduced myself." The boy said with a sheepish look on his face.

"Draco Malfoy." He introduced himself as he extended his hand for Harry to shake.

"Harry Potter." Harry replied as he took Draco's hand and shook it firmly.

He noticed that Draco's eyes widened in shock but other than that he didn't react to Harry's name, though he filed that bit of information away for later, it seemed that he was known in the Wizarding world.

"Know what house you'll be sorted into?" Draco asked after a moment's silence.

"Not really." Answered Harry not letting onto the fact that he didn't fully know what Draco was talking about.

"Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I want to go into Slytherin, all our family have been — though I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be all that bad." Harry just nodded his head in what Draco must have thought was agreement.

"I suppose it wouldn't." Harry said in a neutral tone.

"There you're all done dear." The assistant said to Draco as she straightened up. "You can pick up your robes in about two hours."

"Thank you." Draco said to the assistant as he stepped down from the stool. "See you at school." He nodded to Harry who nodded back as he watched Draco leave the shop.

Five minutes later Harry was finished and told he could pick up his robes in two hours.

"Do you have any muggle clothes?" He asked the assistant as he left the backroom.

"Of course my dear, we have all the latest muggle fashion over there." The assistant smiled pointing him over to a corner of the shop.

"Thank you." Harry smiled before he went over and picked out some new clothes, he decided that it was high time he got some new clothes for the first time that he could remember, he was sick and tired of wearing fat-boy Dudley's hand-me-downs.

All in all Harry got some new t-shirts in dark greens, reds, blacks and some in whites. He also got some new jeans in dark blues and blacks. He also got some turtle neck jumpers in the same colours as his t-shirts and also a pair of black trainers.

Once he had paid for his robes and Muggle clothes he used one of the changing rooms to change into some new clothes. As he exited the changing room he threw Dudley's hand-me-downs into the second hand basket, maybe somebody would need them.

"A new haircut and glasses and you would be unrecognisable." Smiled the shop assistant as she spotted Harry in his new blue jeans and black turtle neck.

"I plan on it." Harry nodded to the girl as he left the shop to continue his shopping.

At the potions store he purchased his ingredients, veils and stirring rods. At the cauldron shop, he bought the very best cauldrons on sale. At Eeylops Owl Emporium, he purchased a snowy white, amber-eyed owl that he would pick up after he had finished with his shopping and was ready to head home. At the stationery store, he purchased enough ink, quills, and parchment to last over a year so he could have some to practice on before heading to Hogwarts. At the trunk store he bought a four compartment trunk, that the shop owner keyed him into, meaning that only he could open it or move it, if someone who was not the owner or keyed into the trunks wards tried to open or move it, they would receive a mild shock and be thrown three feet away.

As he finished buying his schoolbooks in Flourish & Blotts, he decided to ask the owner for more books for people like him.

"What books would you recommend for someone just entering the Wizarding world?" Harry asked the owner.

"I'll be right back with the best books for guidance when entering the Wizarding world." Smiled the owner before he came out from behind the counter and began browsing the shelves. Ten minutes later, he returned with a stack of books.

"First we have an introduction into the world of wizardry, next we have Hogwarts classes explained, next Hogwarts A. history and Wizarding history, the Ministry of Magic and their laws, magical races and finally we have a beginners guide to Wizarding sports and games." The owner explained each book as he showed them to Harry.

"Perfect sir, I'll take them all." Harry gave the same charming smile to the old shop-keeper that he had given to every other shop-keeper he had purchased from today.

"If you'd like I could shrink down your trunk after you've placed your books inside making them much more manageable." Offered the shop-keeper kindly.

"Thank you sir, that is most kind and very welcome." Harry watched with a slightly greedy expression as the shop-keeper shrunk his trunk after he's placed his books inside.

After leaving the store, Harry made his way over to Ollivander's wand shop. As he entered, he noticed the shop was narrow, shabby and quite dusty, with shelves filled to the brim with long, thin boxes.

"Shop." Harry called when he noticed that there was nobody behind the counter.

"Ah, I wondered when I would be seeing you in here Mr. Potter." Said a white haired, silvery-eyed old man as he came out from the backroom.

"It seems only yesterday that your mother and father were in here buying their first wands." Commented the old man whom Harry presumed was Ollivander. "Your mother favoured a ten and a quarter inches, long, swishy, made of willow wand; an excellent wand for charms work." He continued talking after a short pause.

"Your father, on the other hand, favoured a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration." He then continued his voice growing softer with each word he spoke.

"It's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course." Ollivander continued as he came round the counter and walked closer to Harry. "And that's where…"

He touched a long, white finger to the lightning bolt scar on Harry's forehead, even though the scar was very well hidden under Harry's long black hair "I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it." He said softly. "Thirteen and a half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands… well if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do…" he shook his head as he removed a tape measure from his robe pocket and set it to measuring Harry. "Which is your wand arm?"

"I'm ambidextrous sir." Harry answered his expression not changing even through Ollivander's talk about his parents or the wand that had given him his lightning bolt scar had got his heart racing, he had after all just found out his first bit of information about his parents as people and not part of the Dursleys bullshit, his father was good in transfiguration and his mother charms, he decided then and there that he would honour them by doing his best in those two subjects, of course he would do his best in all subjects but those two now had a special meaning to him.

"Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr Potter." Ollivander was saying. "We use Unicorn hairs, Phoenix tail feathers and the heartstrings of Dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two Unicorns, Dragons or Phoenixes are quite the same. And of course you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand." He then went back into the backroom for a few moments before he returned carrying an armful of long, slender boxes.

"That will do." He said and the tape measure crumbled into a heap on the floor as Ollivander opened the boxes. "Right then, Mr. Potter. Try this one. Beachwood and Dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible, Just take it and give it a wave."

Harry took the wand and gave it a wave, but Ollivander snatched it back muttering "no, no." before he passed him another wand. "Maple and Phoenix feather." However, that too was snatched back. Wand after wand was snatched back from him, Harry was getting more and more frustrated, though of course he did not show it, Ollivander on the other hand seemed to get more and more excited.

"Tricky customer eh." Ollivander beamed. "I wonder." He whispered before going into the backroom, returning minutes later holding a very dusty box. "Holly and Phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple, perfect for all types of magic. Unusual combination." He passed Harry the wand.

As soon as Harry's fingers wrapped around the wand he felt an intoxicating rush of power run throughout his entire body. His whole body seemed to be surrounded in power as a strong wind began rushing around him, for a full minute Ollivander watched this spectacle as Harry glowed with never before seen power, not with any eleven year old he had seen anyway, maybe the Dark Lord and Albus Dumbledore when they were at the heights of their power but never in one so young.

"Curious...very curious..." Ollivander spoke in an almost whisper as he stared at Harry wide-eyed.

"Sorry, but what's curious?" Harry despite himself found himself whispering along with Ollivander.

"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail-feather resides in your wand gave another feather... just one other. It is curious that you should be destined for this wand when its brother, why its brother gave you that scar." Ollivander whispered at he pointed at the concealed scar he knew to be on Harry's forehead.

"Voldemort." Breathed Harry as he looked at his new wand.

"We do not speak his name! The wand chooses the wizard, Mr. Potter. It's not always clear why. But I think it is clear that we can expect great things from you. After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things. Terrible! Yes. But great."

After paying for his wand and purchasing, an Auror standard wrist holster Harry left the shop and made his way to the Leaky Cauldron, were he had a quick lunch of soup and bread rolls with a glass of orange juice, Harry made his way out into Muggle London and into a huge shopping centre.

Using the money he had stolen from his family he went into Specsavers, where he had his first eye-test in six years and he got a new prescription and a pair of black framed, square glasses, the optician had advised him to wait a year until his eyes adjusted to the new prescription before he began wearing contact lenses.

Once he had finished at the opticians Harry entered a jewellery store and purchased his first ever watch along with a matching bracelet and a necklace, all silver. After that he visited a hairdresser and had his hair tidied up a bit. Once finished he made his way back to Diagon Alley and picked up his robes and Owl before making his way back to the Leaky Cauldron were he had his dinner and found out he could rent a room until September 1st which he happily did.

End of chapter

_AN: just a short chapter this time but I thought it necessary to get in Dumbledore's and Snape's reactions and also Harry and Draco's first meeting._

_I'm NOT going to make Harry and Draco best friends in this story but most of the time they will be civil with one another. I'm also in two minds about where to place Draco, so far I'm leaning towards Ravenclaw, what do you think? _


	4. The Hogwarts Express and the Sorting

"_Hello everyone, thanks for all the reviews so far, it's really encouraging to me and is helping me with this story, which just seems to be flowing out of me."_

_It seems I keep forgetting to put this so I shall post it here for the whole story; I own nothing but the plot and any OC's that will probably pop up in later chapters._

_And yes, there will be things from the books and films in this story, that is mainly because this is my version of Harry Potter throughout his years at Hogwarts, just darker, with different friends and also in Slytherin house, which I would have thought was obvious in the title and summary, but apparently not judging by some of the PM's I've gotten asking which house Harry would be in. _

**The Hogwarts Express and the Sorting Hat**

The day after his shopping trip, Harry had read the Ministry law book, alternatively, more accurately the laws on underage magic. After reading the laws, he had found several loopholes. For instance, the Ministry could only monitor underage magic in a Muggle house as they had no way to tell who performed magic in an all magic house therefore underage Witches and wizards could get away with practising magic during the summer. And seeing as Harry was spending his last month at the Leaky Cauldron, he could use magic all he wanted and get away with it as the pub was absolutely riddled with magic users. He had of course tested this and preformed a simple charm, before he waited an hour for a Ministry warning owl but none came and Harry smirked knowing that as long as he was at the Cauldron or an all magic house he could get away with performing magic outside of Hogwarts.

Therefore, for the rest of the month Harry would practise Spells from his DADA, Transfiguration and Charms books. He was able to perfect ten spells from each of his classes by the time September 1st rolled around and he was quite pleased with himself for it. Harry also had a different approach to his spell-casting; he would practise the wand movements one hundred times, without saying the incantation. He would then put his wand down and say the incantation one hundred times. Once he was sure he had perfected the wand-movements and incantation, he would pick up his wand and practice the spell one hundred times, by the time he finished, he had the spell perfected. He also visualised what he wanted to happen in his mind, which was a secret to casting spells, that they did not teach you that at Hogwarts wanting you to learn that part for yourself, Harry however had beginners' guides to becoming a master in his class subjects that, instructed how important it was to visualise the spell as you performed it.

It was also one step down from silent-casting, which Harry planned to perfect once he got to Hogwarts as he didn't have the chance to practice it before September 1st rolled around, what with getting ahead in all of his classes and practicing potions.

He had gone back to the potions store in the Alley and purchased enough ingredients to practise the first five potions he would learn at Hogwarts. Surprisingly he had found that he was quite good with potions after reading Potions, how they work and A guide to becoming a beginner. He had found that after reading those two books and then rereading the instructions in the Hogwarts Potions book three or four times, he was able to brew perfect or near perfect Potions on the first try. And Harry was very glad that he had been practising the potions because Tom the barkeep had informed him three days into his stay about how strict the Potions-master at Hogwarts was. Since Potions were among the most dangerous of Magic's, Harry was not surprised that the teacher was strict, as one wrong potion could potentially have fatal consequences.

He had also read his beginners guide to the Dark Arts book, though he had not practised any of the spells. He was quite fascinated with the _Imperius_ Curse; a spell that gave the castor complete control over their victim. Harry hoped to be able to perfect that spell as he wanted to use it on the Dursleys. Not to kill them but to have them withdraw their entire life-savings and hand half of it over to an Orphanage and the other half to him that he would then give to some charity in the Wizarding world. Now wouldn't that be poetic justice?

After ten years of abuse at the hands of the Dursleys, Harry planned to ruin their entire lives beyond repair, Harry understood that you did not have to kill someone to utterly destroy them.

Forcing Vernon to confess to all the shit he had pulled at work, the money he had embezzled, the female workers he had groped (Harry had overheard the whale bragging about that to his best friend, Matthew Polkiss) and also the many mistresses he had had over the last five years behind Petunia's back. He might have felt sorry for his aunt but she had helped with the abuse and there was also the fact that Petunia had been having an affair with Matthew Polkiss.

Vernon would be in prison, Petunia would be forced to finally get a job to survive and also, she would have to deal with the death of poor ikle Dudley. And he also planned to take out Marge Dursley just to stick it to Vernon just that little bit more.

On September 1st Harry awoke with the sun as he had been doing for the past six or seven years. As he stood from his bed, he switched on his lamp beside the bed before he went into the bathroom to take care of his Moring business, once finished in the bathroom he re-entered his bedroom and began to dress in shorts, t-shirt and trainers before he crept out of his room and down the stairs as quietly as he could so as to wake any of the other witches and wizards who were staying at the pub.

"Morning Tom." Harry nodded politely as he walked across the pub towards the door leading to Muggle London.

"Morning Hadrian." Tom replied; he of course knew who Harry was and had informed him that he was very famous in the Wizarding world and Harry, not wanting the attention brought with being the Boy-Who-Lived had asked Tom to call him by his full given name at birth. Hadrian instead of Harry that way people would be less likely to connect him to Harry Potter and would thusly leave him to his own devices.

After stepping into the deserted Muggle Street, Harry did a few warm up stretches before he began jogging around the block. He was able to jog around the block three times before he began to get winded after which he sprinted as fast as he could around the block once before he re-entered the Leaky Cauldron.

"Good Run?" Tom asked with a toothless smile as he handed Harry a glass of ice-cold water.

"Yes, thanks." Replied a breathless and sweaty Harry as he took the offered glass and downed the water in one go. Ever since Harry had gone for a run on his first morning of staying at the pub, Tom had had a glass of ice-cold water waiting for him.

"What will you be having for breakfast this morning?" Tom asked him as he took the glass back.

"Surprise me today Tom." Harry replied before he headed back up to his room where he then did his push and sit ups (25 of each) before using his very own, brand new dumbbells that he had purchased in Muggle London the day after he arrived at the Pub. Once he had finished with the dumbbells, He jumped into the shower allowing the hot water to wash away the tension from his workout.

After stepping out of the shower, Harry put on a clean pair of boxer-shorts before going into his room and over to the window and opening it wide, he then turned to his snowy owl that he had named Hedwig who was perched on his bedpost.

"Fly to Hogwarts girl." He told her as she flew over to land on his shoulder giving his ear a gentle nip. "Take your time as it'll be a few hours before I arrive." He watched as Hedwig launched out of the window and into the morning sky. After watching Hedwig fly away for a few moments he turned back to his room and made sure he had packed everything before he dressed in jeans, t-shirt, turtle-neck jumper and trainers (all black) once he was sure he had everything, he grabbed his trunk and Hedwig's cage before heading back down into the pub, which had now filled up with witches and wizards all having their morning meal.

"Thank you Tom." Harry nodded politely after Tom had brought him his breakfast over, looking down at his plate he found a full English breakfast that would have Vernon and Dudley watering at the mouth.

"Don't worry Hadrian, it's grilled not fried." Tom informed him after seeing Harry's raised eyebrow. He didn't know why but Tom knew that Harry absolutely hated fried food.

"Ah I'll let you off then." Harry replied with a slight smile that he only ever gave the kind old man who had looked out for him in the last month, everyone else either got a blank face or cold stare. He hated fried food for two reasons. 1 it was all Vernon and Dudley ever ate and he would die before he ever took after those two in body weight and 2 he had worked bloody hard to get his body in the shape it was and he did not want to ruin all the hard work by eating fried fatty foods. Grilled food on the other hand was drained of most of its natural fats, so he deemed them safe to eat.

Three hours later found Harry gracefully exiting the fireplace on Platform nine and ¾. Tom and the Flourish & Blotts book store owner Felix Blott, had allowed Harry too practise going through the Floo-network until he had it perfected and did not come shooting out onto his ass, the trick was to walk out of the fireplace instead of just stopping like most people do until they get the hang of it.

A scarlet steam engine was waiting next to a platform packed with people. A sign on the front engine read Hogwarts express. Smoke from the engine drifted over the heads of the chattering crowds. Harry pulled his trunk down the platform in search of an empty compartment.

The first few carriages already had students in them so he continued down the platform until he came to a compartment about halfway down the train that was thankfully empty. He lifted the cage into the compartment before grabbing his trunk, bending his knees slightly, keeping his back straight, and lifting the trunk to waist height, even though the trunk was very heavy, Harry kept a blank look on his face. He stepped up into the compartment before heaving the trunk into the luggage rack. The few people who had watched him were impressed that he could lift a heavy trunk as though it was nothing. Harry was glad that he was able to get the trunk inside without having to ask for help as asking for help was a sign of weakness to him.

After placing his trunk in the overhead rack he took a seat beside the window with his feet up on the seat opposite as he opened his book on a beginners guide to the mind-arts. He had only read a few pages before the door to his compartment opened and two girls stepped inside.

"Is it ok if we sit in here?" asked the shorter than the two girls, she had dark brown hair and light green eyes, the girl standing with her had jet-black hair and sparkling violet eyes and a slight smile on her lips.

"It's a free country." Harry replied in a monotone voice as he glanced at the two girls before he went back to his book ignoring the two girls as they dragged their trunks in after them and began struggling to lift them into the overhead rack.

"You could have helped us." The browned haired girl pouted slightly at him as she took as seat opposite Harry in the middle of the bench as his feet were still up on the seat.

"You could have asked." Harry replied not looking up from his book.

"I'm Daphne Greengrass." The black haired girl introduced herself. Harry ignored her as he continued reading.

"And I'm Tracy Davis." The Brunette introduced herself brightly. Harry ignored her too.

"Do you have a name?" Daphne asked with a slightly raised eyebrow.

"No my parents decided that I would not have a name when I was born." Harry said sarcastically still not looking up from his book. Instead of being insulted the two girls giggled at his words.

"So what's your name?" Daphne asked rephrasing her question.

"Hadrian." Harry replied still not looking up from his book and not wanting them to know he was Harry Potter.

"Have you got… what's your last name?" Daphne rephrased her question midway remembering that Harry was sarcastic when asked a stupid question causing him to smirk slightly.

"Pottus." Harry replied changing his last name slightly hoping that they would not work out his real name.

"Hadrian Pottus, you're Muggleborn then." Tracy asked curiously who was obliviously a Pureblood and did not recognise his surname.

"Half-blood." He replied as the train gave a lurch as it began pulling out of the station. "My mother was a Muggleborn and that's why you don't recognise my surname, I took hers instead of my fathers." Harry lied so as to throw them off even further.

"Who's your father?" Daphne asked after a moment of thinking it over.

"James Evans." Harry replied giving his father his mother's maiden name.

"Can we be friends?" Tracy asked with a slightly hopeful tone.

"No, sorry." Harry replied not sounding sorry at all.

"You don't sound sorry." Daphne pouted at him as he had yet to look up from his book.

"That's because I'm not, it was just polite to say I was." Harry replied as he turned the page of his book.

Before either Tracy or Daphne could reply, the compartment door banged open and Harry finally looked up from his book, a cold glare on his face. Even though he did not show it, the banging of the door had made him jump, reminding him of his uncle when he was in a rage. This is the absolute wrong thing to remind Harry off.

"Davis, _what_ are you doing sitting with this Half-blood?" Draco Malfoy asked with a sneer as he gestured at Daphne completely ignoring Harry. Stood behind the blonde were two hulking boys that were at least twice the size that Dudley was.

"This Half-blood happens to be my friend Malfoy." Tracy replied as she glared at the blonde. "Not all Purebloods are inbred bigots like you and your pathetic excuse for a family."

"What did you say?" Malfoy asked trying to put a hiss in his voice but it sounded quite pathetic.

"You heard me, you inbred bigot." Tracy replied a hard edge to her voice as Malfoy's cheeks pinked in anger.

"You'll painfully regret that." Malfoy sneered as he turned to the hulking boys behind him. "Crabbe teach this blood-traitor a lesson." He ordered one of the hulks. The hulk, Crabbe, cracked his knuckles as he advanced menacingly into the compartment towards Tracy.

However the huge boy had only taken two steps inside the compartment before Harry sprang from his seat and punched him as hard as he could on the jaw dropping him to the floor, he howled in pain holding his broken jaw. Looking up Harry saw a shocked Malfoy and a scowling hulk of a boy whose name he had not yet learned.

"G-get him Goyle." Malfoy ordered in a less sure voice. The other hulk, Goyle advanced into the compartment and took a swing at Harry, who grabbed the incoming fist and twisted the arm painfully before he jabbed his fist into the boys nose three times as hard and as fast as he could, dropping him to the floor next Crabbe with a broken nose.

Faster than the other boy could react Harry grabbed Malfoy by the throat and pulled his face within inches of his own. He stared coldly into Malfoy's eyes for a full minute before he spoke.

"If I ever catch you setting these two on girls again I'll break your face." Harry hissed coldly as he squeezed Malfoy's throat slightly to emphasize his point.

"M… my F…father…" Malfoy wheezed before Harry tightened his grip on his neck cutting off his oxygen and whatever he was going to say.

"Do not cross me Malfoy or you _will_ painfully regret it." Harry hissed as he got right in Malfoy's face which was starting to turn crimson from lack of air. "I'll beat you so badly your grandchildren's children will feel it." He then shoved Malfoy away from him as he started to turn purple. Malfoy dropped to the floor clutching his throat, coughing and gasping in great gulps of air.

The three boys managed to pull themselves to their feet after a few moments; Malfoy was still massaging his throat as Crabbe and Goyle were holding their nose and jaw respectfully.

"Leave." Harry menacingly growled at them. The three boys couldn't seem to get out of the door fast enough before they vanished down the train the same way they had come from.

"That was… wow… thank you." An awed Tracy said breathless voice as she gave Harry a grin as he retook his seat after closing the door.

"I hate bullies and I especially hate woman beaters." Harry would never admit it but he had had a flash of Vernon coming at him in menacing manor just before a beating occurred, the way Crabbe had advanced on Tracy had sent his mind right back to those beatings and he'd just seen red.

"Well, thank you." Tracy said again in a normal tone of voice as she too relaxed in her seat, she had been scared witless when Crabbe advanced on her and would be forever thankful that she and Daphne had chosen to sit in Hadrian's compartment.

"If they give either of you trouble again let me know and I'll break their faces." Harry replied as he retrieved his book from the floor where it had fallen as he'd sprang from his seat.

"Sure thing Hadrian." Tracy smiled at him while Daphne nodded her agreement before the two girls began chatting amongst themselves, once again leaving Harry to his reading.

Hours later after the three had changed into their Hogwarts robes (Harry standing outside the compartment as Tracy and Daphne changed before Harry re-entered and began changing not bothered that the two girls were still in the compartment and blushing bright red at his almost naked, toned body, only his boxers hiding his most private areas, Daphne had openly stared at him) A voice echoed through the train: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

The train slowed right down and finally stopped. People pushed their way toward the door and out on to a tiny, dark platform. Harry stayed sat in his seat until everyone had exited the train before he jumped onto the platform at the back of students with Tracy and Daphne sticking close to him.

Then a lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students, and Harry heard a booming voice: "Firs' years! Firs' years over here!" Looking up the platform Harry saw a huge man. He was at least twice the size of a normal man and at least three times as wide. The man had wild, bushy black hair and beard.

"C'mon, follow me - any more firs' years. Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!" Slipping and stumbling, they followed the giant of a man down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark on either side of them that Harry thought there must be thick trees there. Nobody spoke much. Tracy and Daphne were clinging to his arms mainly out of fear of the blackness on either side of them and to stop from falling, Harry would have scowled at them except for the fact that they had caught him when he misplaced his foot and almost fell face first, so he allowed them to cling to him without complaint.

"Ye' all get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," the giant called over his shoulder, "jus' round this bend here." There was a loud "Oooooh!" The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black lake.

Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.

"No more'n four to a boat!" The giant called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. Harry, Daphne and Tracy took a boat to themselves and were soon joined by a dark haired black boy who introduced herself as Blaise Zabini.

"Tracy Davis." Tracy replied with a bright excited smile that lit up her entire face as she shook Blaise's hand.

"Daphne Greengrass." Daphne said also with a bright smile and a hand shake.

"Hadrian." Harry said not even looking at any of the girls as he stared up at the castle.

"He's like that most of the time." Tracy explained to Blaise who had looked at her and Daphne for an explanation for Harry's behaviour.

"Everyone in." shouted the giant, who had a boat to himself. "Right then - FORWARD!" And the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood.

"Heads down!" yelled the giant as the first boats reached the cliff; they all bent their heads and the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle, until they reached a kind of underground harbour, where they clambered out onto rocks and pebbles; Harry helped the three girls out of the boats like a gentleman but otherwise didn't acknowledge them.

"Oy, you there! Is this your toad." said the giant, who was checking the boats as people climbed out of them.

"Trevor!" cried a round faced boy blissfully, holding out his hands. Then they clambered up a passageway in the rock after Hagrid's lamp, coming out at last onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle. They walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, oak front door.

"Everyone here. You there, still got yer toad." The giant raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.

The door swung open at once. A tall, slightly greying, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there, who Harry knew to be Professor McGonagall the transfiguration teacher, head of Gryffindor and Deputy Headmistress.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said the giant.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here." Finally the first years had a name for this giant of a man. McGonagall pulled the door wide. The entrance hall was so big you could have fit the whole of the Dursleys' house in it. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches like the ones at Gringotts, the ceiling was too high to make out, and a magnificent marble staircase facing them led to the upper floors.

They followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. They could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right -the rest of the school must already be here - but Professor McGonagall showed the first years into a small, empty chamber off the hall. They crowded in, standing rather closer together than they would usually have done, peering about nervously. Daphne and Tracy clung to his arms once more in nervousness causing Harry to roll his eyes at their trembling hands on his arms.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room.

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours."

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting." Her eyes lingered for a moment on Harry's, an unreadable expression on her face and yet Harry got the impression that she was fearful of him or a t the very least weary.

"I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly." She then turned around and left the chamber.

Immediately the new students began chattering amongst themselves as they began debating how they would be sorted into the houses.

"How exactly do they sort us into houses." he heard someone ask.

"Some sort of test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking." Daphne snorted at this as she relaxed, her grip on Harry's arm loosening.

Harry looked around and saw that everyone else looked terrified, No one was talking much except a bushy brown haired with large front teeth who was whispering very fast about all the spells she'd learned and wondering which one she'd need.

Harry tried hard not to listen to her as he viciously squashed his own nervousness. He kept his eyes fixed on the door. Any second now, Professor McGonagall would be coming back in to take them to the sorting.

Then something happened that made him jump about a foot in the air - several people behind him screamed.

"What the -." He growled spinning round to glare at those who had screamed almost in his ears. However as he turned around, he saw the last thing he expected to see in his life.

About twenty ghosts had just streamed through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to one another and hardly glancing at the first years. They seemed to be arguing. What looked like a fat little monk was saying: "Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance -" "My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves. He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost - I say, what are you all doing here?" A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had suddenly noticed the first years. Nobody answered.

"New students!" said the Fat Friar, smiling around at them. "About to be Sorted, I suppose." A few people nodded mutely.

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" said the Friar. "My old house, you know."

"Move along now," said a sharp voice. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start." Professor McGonagall had returned. One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall.

"Now, form a line," Professor McGonagall told the first years, "and follow me." Harry got into line behind Tracy who was behind Blaise, with Daphne behind him who now had his arm in a vice-like grip, they walked out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.

Harry had never even imagined such a strange and splendid place. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in mid-air over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting.  
>These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led the first years up here, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them.<p>

The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver. Mainly to avoid all the staring eyes, Harry looked upward and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. He heard someone whisper. "Its bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History." It was hard to believe there was a ceiling there at all, and that the Great Hall didn't simply open on to the heavens.

Harry quickly looked down again as Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool she put a pointed wizard's hat. This hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty. He raised an eyebrow silently but otherwise gave no other reaction. Noticing that everyone in the hall was now staring at the hat, he stared at it, too. For a few seconds, there was complete silence. Then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth - and the hat began to sing:

_Oh you may not think me pretty,_

_But don't judge on what you see,_

_I'll eat myself if you can find_

_A smarter hat than me._

_You can keep your bowlers black,_

_Your top hats sleek and tall,_

_For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_

_And I can cap them all._

_There's nothing hidden in your head_

_The Sorting Hat can't see,_

_So try me on and I will tell you_

_Where you ought to be._

_You might belong in Gryffindor,_

_Where dwell the brave at heart,_

_Their daring, nerve, and chivalry_

_Set Gryffindor's apart;_

_You might belong in Hufflepuff,_

_Where they are just and loyal,_

_Those patient Hufflepuff's are true_

_And unafraid of toil;_

_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_

_If you've a ready mind,_

_Where those of wit and learning,_

_Will always find their kind;_

_Or perhaps in Slytherin_

_You'll make your real friends,_

_Those cunning folks use any means_

_To achieve their ends._

_So put me on! Don't be afraid!_

_And don't get in a flap!_

_You're in safe hands (though I have none)_

_For I'm a Thinking Cap!_

_Harry blinked in surprise as the seated students began to clap. That was it, they had to try on an old hat._

"Well, this should be easier than I first thought." Harry thought to himself with a mental sigh, that bushy heard girl had him almost convinced they had to do some sort of test with her mumblings.

Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment. "When I call your name, you will come forth, put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said.

"Abbott, Hannah!" A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. A moment's pause –

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat. The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table. Harry saw the ghost of the Fat Friar waving merrily at her.

"Bones, Susan." A short girl with long red hair which she wore in a long plait down her back.

Harry found himself staring at Susan Bones as she went up to be sorted, he didn't know why but he could not take his eyes off of Susan Bones.

"HUFFLEPUFF." Shouted the Hat, once again the Hufflepuff table erupted in cheers and clapping.

Crabbe was sorted into Hufflepuff and it seemed that his jaw had been healed, though you could still see the bruise on his chin.

"Davis, Tracy." McGonagall called a little while later and Tracy walked up to the stool placing the hat on her head. There was silence for a few moments as Tracy grinned brightly before.

"SLYTHERIN." Shouted the hat causing the table on the far left to cheer loudly as Tracy took off the hat, placing it back on the stool before she went over to join her new house mates, flashing Daphne a thumbs up as she went.

A few more students were sorted before McGonagall called.

"Greengrass, Daphne." Daphne walked up to the stool and placed the hat on her head, there was a moment of silence as Daphne too smiled like Tracy had before her and then.

"SLYTHERIN." Shouted the hat. Daphne took of the hat, placed it back on the stool before going over to the cheering table, flashing Harry a grin.

More and more students were sorted, with Goyle joining Crabbe in Hufflepuff and then.

"Malfoy, Draco" was called and the blonde ponce went swaggering up to the stool before putting the hat on his head with a slight sniff. For over five minutes the hall was in silence, well some students muttered as Malfoy's sorting dragged on. Until finally it shout…

"RAVENCLAW." For a few seconds there was silence in the hall before the Ravenclaw table politely clapped and welcomed their newest member.

The sorting continued with "Moon" "Nott" "Parkinson" then a pair of twin girls, "Patil" and "Patil" then "Perks, Sally-Anne" and then, at last.

"Potter, Harry." He turned and smirked at Tracy and Daphne whose jaws dropped as he stepped forward. Whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall.

"Potter, did she say."

"The Harry Potter."

Harry walked calmly up to the stool and sat down and went to place the hat on his head. However before the hat even touched his head.

"SLYTHERIN." The hat shouted surprising him as he had not even put the thing on before it shouted his house, his must have been the quickest sorting of the ceremony if not the quickest in history.

There was a shocked silence as the Gryffindor's, Ravenclaw's and Hufflepuff's looked like someone had died before all hell broke loose at the Slytherin table as every member of the house jumped to their feet clapping widely, stamping their feet and cheering in triumphant.

They couldn't believe it, Harry Potter was not a golden Gryffindor, he was a Slytherin, a snake; this was better than beating Gryffindor at Quidditch for the cup last year.

He placed the hat back on the stool before walking over to the Slytherin table where he was clapped on the back, his hand shook vigorously, hugged by various girls and Tracy and Daphne kissed him on the cheek. For over five minutes the Slytherin's cheered until McGonagall managed to finally get them all to calm down and he managed to take his seat.

He could see the High Table properly now. And there, in the centre of the High Table, in a large gold chair, sat Albus Dumbledore. Harry recognized him at once from the card he'd gotten out of the Chocolate Frog on the train. Dumbledore's silver hair was the only thing in the whole hall that shone as brightly as the ghosts.

Harry spotted Professor Quirrell, too, the nervous young man he had met while staying at the Leaky Cauldron. There was something strange about that man, Harry just couldn't put his finger on what it was about him, but he would keep his eye on him.

Next to Quirrell was a thin man with sallow skin, a large, hooked nose and yellow, uneven teeth. He was dressed in flowing black robes. He had shoulder-length, greasy black hair which framed his face in curtains, curling lips and dark, penetrating eyes that resembled tunnels.

The man turned to look at Harry and seeing that Harry was looking up at him, he gave a short respectful bow of his head. Harry bowed back before looking at Blaise Zabini, who had just took the seat across from Harry as McGonagall rolled up the parchment and took away the hat and stool.

"You didn't tell us you were Harry Potter." Tracy said to him accusingly with a smile on her face.

"Hadrian Pottus indeed." Grinned Daphne as McGonagall re-entered the hall.

"My full name is Hadrian James Potter." Harry smirked at them. "I couldn't be bothered with people staring or asking stupid questions." He explained in a cold tone, his facial expression clearly said he would not put up with either.

"Fair enough." Tracy accepted his explanation with a small smile, Daphne and Blaise nodded in agreement.

Harry looked down at his empty gold plate. He had only just realized how hungry he was. The snacks on the train seemed so long ago.

Albus Dumbledore got to his feet, he was beaming at the students, his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there.

"Welcome," he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! "Thank you!"

End of chapter

_What do you all think? Next chapter up soon. Please review._


	5. The Potions Master

_AN: thanks for all the reviews so far; it seems I made a mistake last chapter so let me clear it up right now, Blaise Zabini is a BOY not a girl, sorry about that._

_And another thing, yes I made Daphne Greengrass a half-blood and Tracy a pure-blood, so what? It's my story, I don't tell you how to write yours do I? I just wanted to make my story that little bit different. Get over it. I mean come on people on here have Harry getting with Voldemort, what does it matter if Daphne and Tracy have swapped Blood statuses in my story._

**THE POTIONS MASTER**

Potions master Severus Snape had given all the new first year Slytherin's a talk the night before, about how _all_ Slytherin's stuck together against the other three houses no matter what. He informed them that he didn't care if two families were in a blood-feud with each other, if you saw one of your house mates being picked on you stuck up for them. Harry summarised that basically any grudges with house mates were to be left in the common room.

Harry had also learned that even though they had all cheered for him together as a house, not everybody in Slytherin liked him. A lot of the older years didn't like him because of his victory over the Dark Lord when he was a baby. Thankfully however, Professor Snape had managed to get them all to agree that even though the Dark Lord met his down fall against Harry it was hardly Harry's fault, after-all he was only a year old when the Dark Lord attacked him, he was most likely to have sat there as the killing curse was fired at him, it's not like they had an epic duel in which Harry had won, thus it was not really Harry's fault and he should not be blamed and should be left alone.

Another thing that he had learned last night was that nobody _needed_ friends but everybody needed _allies_ to make it in the Wizarding world. For example if one day you wanted to run to be Minister for Magic you would need allies to back you up and help you gain support, 9 times out of 10 anyone who tried to make it in the Wizarding world on their own almost always failed. Once he had learned that, Harry decided that he would make allies of the most powerful and intelligent students.

As he was leaving the common room to go to breakfast a voice called behind him.

"Potter, a word if you please." He turned around to see Head-boy Terence Higgs coming towards him from the bottom of the staircases leading to the boys' dorms.

The Slytherin dorm rooms were different from the rest of the three houses, they each had a room all to themselves unlike the rest of the houses who bunched all the boys in one year into one room, the same with the girls.

Salazar Slytherin had decided that his students needed their down time to themselves without the distraction of roommates. And therefore the Slytherin students had single rooms to do with as they saw fit as they would be in the same room for all seven years of their Hogwarts careers.

"Yes Mr Higgs, how may I help you?" Harry asked the Head-boy in his most politesse and respectful tone. He knew that to be Head-boy you needed outstanding marks in most if not all subjects you took and that on its own was worthy of respect and plus it didn't hurt if you had a seventh year on your side if the need ever arose.

"First, welcome to Slytherin." Higgs smiled politely to which Harry bowed his head in thanks. "And secondly this." He handed Harry a folded piece of parchment.

"What is it?" Harry asked as he opened it to have a look, it looked like some kind of map.

"It is a map to get you to all of your classes, to the great hall and back here to the common room." Higgs answered as he pointed to common room on the map.

"Thank you, this will come in handy." Harry replied as he mentally visualised the path to the great hall before folding the map and putting it in his pocket.

"No problem, all that I ask is that when you have it all memorised you give it back so that we can give it to next year's first years." Higgs explained with a smile before he headed out the common room to go and get his breakfast before his first lesson.

As he reached the entrance hall the whispers started.

"There, look."

"Where?"

"Wearing the glasses?"

"Did you see his face?"

"Did you see his scar?"

But it wasn't long before a loud voice rang out into the almost silent entrance hall.

"You're all pathetic whispering and staring at a slimy Slytherin."

Turning around, Harry found the source of the voice. It had come from a tall, lanky redhead who was walking straight towards Harry a scowl on his face.

"Do you have a problem?" Harry asked in a cold tone as the tall, freckly faced redhead stopped in front of him.

"Yeah I do." Snarled the redhead as he scowled at Harry. "You think you are so good just because you're the boy-who-lived and a Slytherin don'tcha."

"What are you on about?" Harry asked the boy keeping his cool in front of so many witnesses. He had to keep up his reputation of a model student after-all.

"You been the next Dark Lord is what I'm on about." The boy shouted. For whatever reason this boy seemed to be trying to provoke a reaction out of Harry.

"And how do you work that one out." Harry asked in a bored tone.

"Well let's see, as a baby you somehow manage to destroy the most powerful Dark Lord Britain has seen in over 500 years and now you've been sorted into Slytherin, clearly you're just more evil than You-Know-Who and are just biding your time before you try killing all us decent folk." The redhead explained as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Before Harry could retort another voice was heard behind him. This time Harry was happy to hear it as he knew exactly just who had walked onto the scene.

"What's going on here?" The silky smooth tones of Professor Snape asked as the man himself appeared standing behind Harry and staring at the redhead with a cold, penetrating stare.

"Nothing, just a friendly chat sir." The redhead suddenly had a polite voice as he addressed the Head of Slytherin.

"Nothing." Snape repeated, slowly, quietly. "That's funny because I could have sworn I heard you accuse Mr Potter here of been the next Dark Lord." His cold black eyes bore into the redheads as the boy's ears turned pink.

"That's exactly what he accused me of sir." Harry said as he smirked at the redhead who scowled in return.

"Will wonders never cease, not even your brothers got a detention on their very first day at Hogwarts." Snape began quietly. "But you have earned yourself a week's detention with Mr Filch for slander and 20 points from Gryffindor."

None of the students who were watching this whole ordeal were surprised at Snape's punishment, he was very protective of his students, most especially his first years and Harry had not done anything to provoke the redhead in the first place he deserved everything he got.

"Now get out of my sight Weasley." Snape watched in amusement as the redhead shot of into the great hall.

"Mr Potter."

"Sir?" Harry asked as he looked at Snape who was now standing next to him.

"Your timetable." He passed a sheet of parchment to Harry from seemingly thin-air. "Have a good first day." With that he swept away into the great hall.

Harry looked down at his timetable as he began walking towards the great hall. Transfiguration was his first class of his Hogwarts career.

"Hey Potter, where were you this morning?" Theodore Nott asked Harry as he sat down to breakfast, pulling Harry out of his thoughts. Nott was a tall stocky boy, with dark brown hair and eyes, and pale skin.

"I wake up at half 5 every morning and go for a run." Harry replied as he sat down and grabbed himself a bowl of porridge and glass of fresh orange juice.

"Why?" Asked Blaise Zabini in confusion wondering why anyone would want to go for a run at that time in the morning or any other time for that matter.

Blaise was a tall, dark-skinned boy with high cheekbones and long, slanting eyes that sent a chill into the air but his chilly eyes had nothing on Harry when the Boy-Who-Lived gave a cold, thousand yard stare as he had done the night before when a fifth year boy had wanted to sit in the chair Harry was sitting in, let's just say the boy left Harry alone, feeling freaked out by his cold stare.

"I want to stay healthy and in-shape." Harry indicated his breakfast with a lazy wave of his hand. "A run and a healthy breakfast are a great way to start the day alert and ready for anything." He finished his explanation with a slight smirk as Nott pushed away his plate of fried fatty foods and swapped it for scrambled egg on toast.

"Fair enough." Blaise nodded as he continued with his full English breakfast.

"So did you both take the Gringotts power test?" Theodore asked some minutes later as the three boys were finishing their breakfasts.

"Yes, I scored 115." Blaise said proudly as he gathered his bag and stood from the bench followed by Harry and Theodore.

"Not bad you beat me by three, I scored 112." Theodore said as they began leaving the great hall for their first class.

"What did you score Harry?" Blaise asked as Harry had not told them his score.

"Not that much, 481." He replied offhandedly as though it was an everyday score for an eleven year old wizard.

"4… 48… 481." Blaise managed to choke out from his coughing fit that had come on from Harry's answer.

"You're a grand battle-mage." Theodore grinned in awe at his house-mate. "You must be the most powerful person in the entire school, maybe even more powerful than Dumbledore."

"I beat Dumbledore hands down, he only scored 351." Harry replied with a smirk once again shocking his two fellow Slytherin's.

As they walked towards the Transfiguration classroom, Harry noticed that Blaise walked slightly behind and to the side of his right shoulder whilst Theodore walked behind and to the side of his left shoulder in a clear sign that they were his followers and he, their leader.

He wondered if that was how it would stay, Blaise as his right-hand man and Theodore as his left-hand man. Either way he smirked, he had only been at Hogwarts for less than 24 hours and already he had two followers.

As they reached the Transfiguration classroom he noticed that they were not the first to arrive, standing at the door, her nose buried in the transfiguration book and wearing a Gryffindor tie was the bossy sounding girl from last night, they must have this class with the lions of the school.

After waiting around for ten minutes most, if not all of the students were waiting outside the classroom. Most of the Gryffindor's were looking at Harry with betrayed looks on their faces after they had taken note of his Slytherin tie and house badge on his robes. Ron Weasley, however, was glaring at Harry for all he was worth as though to try and intimidate him.

"_Pathetic little ponce_." Harry thought to himself as he glared coldly at the Gryffindor's around him. Just then the door to the classroom clicked before swinging inwards, permitting the students entrance. Everyone followed the bushy haired girl into the classroom and quickly found seats as Professor McGonagall stood in front of her desk watching them. Once roll was called, McGonagall began.

"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts. Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned." She then changed her desk into a pig and back again. They were all very impressed and couldn't wait to get started, but soon realized they weren't going to be changing the furniture into animals for a long time. After taking a lot of complicated notes, they were each given a match and started trying to turn it into a needle.

Soon the classroom was filled with the voices of the students as they tried to complete the task at hand. Harry, however, just looked around the classroom bored; he had already completed this on his 1st full day at the Leaky Cauldron.

"Potter, why are you not practising the spell?" McGonagall's voice barked out over the students five minutes after they had been given the task causing the students to turn in their seats and look at Harry who was sat in the very back of the classroom between Blaise and Theo.

"Because I have already mastered this spell ma'am." Harry replied in a polite tone of voice as he indicated the perfect needle sat in front of him on the desk.

"Show me." McGonagall demanded as she turned his needle back into a matchstick. Harry nodded his head before pointing his wand at the match.

"_Acus_." Harry did not even realise that he performed the spell silently, however the results were the same, a perfect needle now lay upon his desk.

"Very well done." McGonagall praised as she held up the perfect needle to show the rest of the class." She had only just managed to hide her shock at Harry's silent casting.

"Take 20 well-earned points for Slytherin." McGonagall said as she placed the needle back on the desk. "You may read ahead in you book until the class is finished."

"Thank you professor, but may I practise my Transfiguration." Harry asked politely as the rest of the class went back to their own matchsticks.

"Very well." McGonagall nodded as she pulled a parrot from her store cupboard. "Repeat after me Potter." She said after placing the parrot in front of Harry.

"_Vera Verto_." a jet of nearly indiscernible, crystal-clear mist, almost like a spray, shot from McGonagall's wand, engulfing the animal and quickly morphing it into a goblet with a quiet whooshing noise.

"Now, your turn Mr Potter." McGonagall said after showing Harry the correct wand movements and turning the goblet back into a parrot.

"_Vera Verto_." Just like the Professor, a jet of nearly indiscernible, crystal-clear mist, almost like a spray, shot from Harry's wand, engulfing the animal and quickly morphing it into a goblet.

"Very good Mr Potter, take another 20 points for Slytherin." Said a very impressed McGonagall. She had never had a student who could perform a second-year spell on their first day and on their first try to boot. Not even she could have done that on her very first day at Hogwarts.

"One last spell then you may read ahead in your book." McGonagall said as she pointed her wand at the goblet.

"_Duro_." The glass goblet turned to stone. McGonagall would be very impressed if Harry got this spell on his first try as it was a fourth year spell.

"Your turn Potter." McGonagall said after she changed the parrot turned goblet back into glass. She showed Harry the wand movement then stood back to watch.

"_Duro_." The top half of the goblet turned into stone but the stem remained glass and thus broke under the weight of the stone top.

"Very good try Potter." McGonagall was impressed even though Harry had not managed to turn the whole goblet to stone, he had come closer than she had expected.

"Thank you ma'am." Harry said respectfully with a small bow of his head.

"Take another ten points for a very good try." McGonagall said before she went back to teaching the rest of the class after turning the half stone half glass goblet back into a parrot which look none the worse for wear after all the spells cast on it.

Harry was happy, he had already earned 50 points for his house and he had not even finished his first class at Hogwarts. His persona as a perfect, model student was well underway to been established.

Forty minutes later the Slytherin's and Gryffindor's were sat in the dungeon classroom for waiting for the start of their first potions class. Once again Blaise was sat on his right and Theo on his left, it was almost like they had an unspoken agreement to who was his right-hand and who was his left-hand.

Seconds after the bell rang the door to the classroom burst open and Snape swept into the room and up to his desk at the front before spinning on his heel to face the students, a scowl upon his face. He surveyed them silently as he looked around them all taking a mental roll call.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making. As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even stopper death - if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach." he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word - like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort.

"Weasley!" said Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

"I-I don't know sir." Answered Ron Weasley after exchanging glances with a black boy beside him even as the bushy haired girl's hand shot into the air.

"Tut, tut - "Let's try again. Weasley, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?" the bushy haired girls' hand seemed to stretch towards the ceiling even more

"I don't know sir." Ron replied once more his ears turning pink.

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Weasley?" Snape was still ignoring the bushy haired girls now quivering hand.

"What is the difference, Weasley, between monkshood and Wolfsbane?" at this the bushy haired girl actually stood from her seat her hand stretching towards the ceiling.

"I don't know," said Ron quietly. "I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her?" A few people laughed; Ron caught Seamus's eye, and Seamus winked. Snape, however, was not pleased. "Sit down," he snapped at Hermione. He then looked around the classroom before his eyes landed on Harry in the back of the class.

"Perhaps you can answer my questions Potter?" Snape asked him quietly as the students once more turned in their seats to look at Harry.

"Yes sir, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and Wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite." Harry answered in a bland tone of voice causing most of the Gryffindor's jaws to drop, though the bushy haired girl seemed to wilt in disappointment that she did not get to answer the professor's questions.

"One last question Mr. Potter, where did you learn the answers to those questions?" Snape asked confirming that Harry had answered all three questions correctly.

"One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi where it gives an introduction to potions-making and the description of the ingredients used in the classroom." Harry replied without missing a beat.

"Very good Mr. Potter, take twenty points for Slytherin."

"70 points in less than two classes." Blaise said in awe with a laugh.

"What was that Mr Zabini?" Snape asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I was just saying that in less than two classes, Harry has earned Slytherin 70 points." Blaise answered with a smile. The rest of the Slytherin's smiled in happiness at their new star student, while the Gryffindor's looked green with envy.

"Very good Mr Potter." Snape then put them all into pairs and set them to mixing up a simple potion to cure boils. He swept around in his long black cloak, watching them weigh dried nettles and crush snake fangs, criticizing almost everyone except Harry, Blaise and Theo whom he seemed to like, as he had allowed them to work as a trio.

He was just telling everyone to look at the perfect potion they had brewed when clouds of acid green smoke and a loud hissing filled the dungeon. Neville had somehow managed to melt Seamus's cauldron into a twisted blob, and their potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people's shoes. Within seconds, the whole class was standing on their stools while Neville, who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs.

"Idiot boy!" snarled Snape, clearing the spilled potion away with one wave of his wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?" Neville whimpered as boils started to pop up all over his nose. "Take him up to the hospital wing" Snape spat at Seamus.

Then he rounded on Dean and Ron, who had been working next to Neville. "You - Weasley - why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's ten points you've lost for Gryffindor." Ron's face burned crimson in anger and he opened his mouth to say something before Dean kicked him under the table warning him not to push it.

An hour later Harry was sat at the Slytherin table eating tuna pasta-bake for his lunch with Blaise and Theo once more sat either side of him when Daphne Greengrass and Tracy Davis sat down across from them.

"Have you seen this Harry?" Daphne asked him as she passed him a copy of that mornings _Daily Prophet_.

"No, not yet." Harry replied as he opened the paper.

**Harry Potter the Next Dark Lord?** _By Rita Skeeter_

Was the glaring headline that jumped out at Harry as he looked at the front page, Somehow the newspaper reporter had found out that Harry had been sorted into Slytherin house and because of his defeat of Voldemort when he was one and now been sorted into the house Voldemort was descended from, automatically made him the next Dark Lord somehow. As he finished reading the article and looked around the great hall, Harry noticed that most of the other houses were looking at him with suspicion and some fear and Ron Weasley was smirking at him from the Gryffindor table.

"Thank you for showing me this Daphne." Harry said as he threw the paper aside.

"What are you going to do?" Tracy asked seemingly sensing that he was not about to let it slide.

"Destroy them." Harry replied in a cold, hard tone.

"We'll help." Blaise said as Theo nodded his agreement.

"I'll write to the family lawyer explaining the situation and hopefully he will take on your case and help you." Theo said after swallowing his bite of food.

"Thank you." Harry nodded as he went back to his lunch. Daphne and Tracy stayed with them as they began to eat their own lunches. It seemed he had gotten two more followers.

End of chapter 5

_AN: what do you think? Like it? Don't like it? Please leave a review. Until next time._


	6. Halloween

_AN: Sorry it's been a while since I last updated this story but I've been enjoying my new Xbox one and Assassin's creed Unity. Hope you all understand._

**Halloween**

_**Staff room second floor**_

"Staff meeting closed." Albus Dumbledore said ending the staff meeting. At the beginning of every year they would hold a staff meeting after two weeks to discuss how the first year students were settling in. As the professor's began to leave the classroom, he motioned for the heads of house to stay behind.

"Now, what are your observations of Mr. Potter?" Dumbledore asked once only he and the heads of house remained.

"He is a very polite and gifted child when it comes to potions." Snape answered quickly, smirking when four pairs of startled eyes snapped towards him.

"After the way you were talking about him in the summer I expected you to be the first to call him an arrogant pampered prince." Flitwick squeaked with a slight smile on his face.

"Yes well that was before I saw the two memories of Potter and the Dark Lord as a boy and before Potter was sorted into my house. He reminds me a lot of myself when I was his age, emotionally detached from the world and untrusting of everyone." Here Dumbledore broke in.

"How do you mean untrusting of everyone?" Dumbledore asked with a frown.

"Well some of the 6th and 7th years that I trust completely have informed me that Potter has his own motto." Snape replied in a slightly hesitant voice as he knew the headmaster would not like Potter's motto.

"His own motto, you mean his family motto?" Professor Spout asked in confusion.

"No his own motto that he adopted as a young child." Snape replied with a head shake.

"And what is his motto?" Dumbledore asked with a feeling in the pit of his stomach that he would not like what he was about to hear.

"DTA; don't trust anybody." Snape replied with a long sigh as he watched Dumbledore close his eyes.

"Don't trust anybody." Dumbledore repeated softly before he opened his eyes and looked at his four most trusted staff members. "What in Merlin's name did those Muggle's do to him that was so bad he had to adopt such a motto?" as he asked this Albus looked every one of his 152 years and then some.

"I don't know Headmaster but from what I am told he doesn't even trust Nott and Zabini who he is always seen in company of, from what I am told Zabini is his right hand and Nott his left hand." Snape explained quietly as the rest of the staff looked shocked that Harry had followers already, so early into his Hogwarts career.

"Does he have any other followers?" Dumbledore asked softly as he looked to his most trusted Order member, he was hoping that Harry had other followers other than pureblood students and one whose father was a suspected Death Eater in the war against Voldemort, true it had never been proven but Lord Marcus Nott had been on the Orders watch list for two years before the Dark Lord fell.

"He is friendly with Miss Davis and Greengrass and has also started to become friendly with Neville Longbottom and Justin Finch-Fletchley both of whom are ridiculed by their housemates; on the train he stuck up for Davis and Greengrass when Draco Malfoy tried getting his henchmen Crabbe and Goyle to `teach` them a lesson for `back-chatting` as he put it." Snape explained with pride in his voice.

"Sounds to me like he's gathering students who are bullied by the rest of the school and offering them protection, much like Tom Riddle did in his days as a student here." McGonagall said as she looked at Dumbledore who had closed his eyes once more. So far it seemed Harry was walking Tom Riddle's path at Hogwarts, charming, perfect scores, untrusting and gathering followers.

"Except for the fact that Harry is not just gathering followers from his own house as Riddle did and is also accepting Muggleborn's, something Riddle would never have done." Reasoned Flitwick who did not want to believe that the baby he had held could grow up to be a monster like Tom Riddle had.

"That is very true Filius and very encouraging, maybe Harry won't grow up to be a monster like Voldemort or even Gellert." Dumbledore said with a small smile.

"Why don't you just talk to the boy, maybe get him on side, know how his mind works and maybe get an explanation for why he is gathering followers." Snape suggested though he doubted Dumbledore would take his advice, the headmaster liked to work from behind the scenes until absolutely necessary.

"Do you really think he would open up to me so easily?" Dumbledore asked with a slightly hopeful tone. All those years ago he had wanted to raise Harry himself but been who he was and who Harry was it would have been a hard life, always in the spot light, but from what he had learned about the boy's motto, maybe it would have been better if he had raised the child himself.

"Maybe not straight away but if you work at it, maybe you can gain his trust enough for him to tell you." Snape reasoned with the other heads of house nodding their agreement to his reasoning.

"Yes, maybe I shall invite Harry up to my office for a cup of tea." Dumbledore mussed as he reached into his robe pocket and pulled out a bag of lemon drops and popped one into his mouth before he offered them around, everyone but Flitwick refused.

"Maybe you could ask him about his suing the Daily Prophet for ten thousand galleons." Sprout giggled getting laughs from Flitwick and McGonagall and a smirk from Snape, even Dumbledore smiled at the thought.

Harry Potter had not even been at Hogwarts a month and already he had gone down in Hogwarts history and legend as the only known student to sue a company of any kind. And the Daily Prophet to boot, one of the most untouchable companies in England due to them printing whatever Minister Fudge wanted them to print.

However their laughed soon died when the door burst open and a frantic looking Amanda Turpin came rushing through the door.

"Headmaster, Professor's come quickly, Ron Weasley has been viscously attacked and put in the hospital wing." Amanda informed them before rushing back out the door as the headmaster and professor's quickly scrambled to follow her out the door.

Harry was walking alone on the 4th floor as he had decided to explore the castle for a while since all his homework was completed and he had mastered all the spells they would be practicing in class in the coming two weeks. He was just thinking he'd have a look around the library to see if any books caught his attention when he spotted Ron Weasley up ahead entering the bathroom.

After all the jibes and insults the other boy had thrown his way in the two weeks that they had been in Hogwarts Harry was waiting for his opportunity to teach the git a lesson.

Looking around him, he didn't see any other students or any teachers so he quickly made his way towards the bathroom that Weasley had entered. Opening the door as quietly as he could, Harry peeked his head around the door to see that the bathroom was empty except for Weasley who just pulling up the fly on his jeans as he made his way towards the sinks. His biggest mistake was not spotting Harry at the door as he began washing his hands.

Harry, quickly but silently made his way across the bathroom until he stood right behind Weasley who had his head bent as he washed his hands and did not see Harry behind him in the mirror. Grabbing a handful of the boys' hair, Harry smashed the boys' face into the sink letting go of his hair as his face connected with the unforgiving sink. Weasley sank to the floor holding his now bleeding nose and moaning in pain but Harry was not finished yet as he stamped on the boys ankle with a sickening crunch in the tell-tale sound of bones braking. Bending over the boy Harry punched him three times in the jaw, shattering the bone viscously.

As he straitened, Harry pulled the boy up with him before throwing him against the sink so his back was to him before he punched the boy six times in the kidney area as hard and as fast as he could before letting the boy slide back to floor.

"Get up." Harry shouted at the boy who was crying in pain and holding his broken jaw. He did not care that he had just broken Weasley's ankle and it would take a miracle for the boy to stand up under his own power.

However Weasley showed determination as he rolled onto his stomach and managed to pull himself onto his hands and knees but he could go no further as his body was screaming in pain and his strength was leaving him quickly.

"Get up." Harry shouted at the boy as he glared down at him with hate in his eyes.

"I-I can't." Weasley moaned pitifully as he raised his head slightly.

Harry took quick steps back before running at the boy and lifting his leg up so that his shin connected with the side of Weasley's head, painfully knocking the boy unconscious.

Looking down at the boy who was now laid on his back after the punt to the head, Harry could see that the boys' eyes were beginning to bruise indicating that his nose was broken, his jaw was also clearly broken along with his ankle and he had a cut on the side of his head were Harry's shin had connected.

Turning around, Harry exited the bathroom silently chuckling to himself as he did so. He began making his way towards the dungeons and the Slytherin common room as though he had done nothing more than take a calm stroll through the castle.

As he made it back to his room in Slytherin, he made his way over to his trunk and upon opening it he took out a sack of galleons before closing the lid and exiting the room and going back down to the common room with his charms textbook.

He spotted two 7th year boys working on their home work at a table off to one side off the common room, so he made his way over.

As he took a seat at their table he passed one of the boy's the bag of money when they looked up at him.

"What's this for?" Marcus Flint asked with confusion wondering why Harry would throw him a sack of what was obviously money.

"If any of the professor's ask, I've been in here all morning since breakfast." Harry replied in a bland tone as he looked at the two with a meaningful smirk and a slightly raised eyebrow.

"Ah right I get you." Flint said with his own smirk as his respect for Harry grew at the cunning mind of young Harry Potter.

"Yes that's right Professor Snape, Harry here has been reading his book for the last 3 hours only getting up to use the bathroom." Miles spoke with his own smirk as Flint snorted while Harry nodded his head at him before they all went back to their books.

_End of flashback_

_**Hospital wing**_

"How is he Poppy?" McGonagall asked as she and the other heads of house along with the headmaster looked upon the now sleeping redhead.

"He will live but I will be keeping him here for at least four days to keep an eye on him." Poppy Pomfrey answered with a sad sigh. "Whoever did this gave the poor boy a real beating." She informed them quietly.

"What injuries did he sustain?" Dumbledore asked in a soft voice as he looked at Ron sadly.

A broken left ankle, a broken nose, two black eyes, and his jaw was broken in three places, his kidneys were bruised and lightly bleeding, a cut on his head and he has a concussion." Pomfrey answered causing three of the professors' and the Headmaster to gasp in shock. Snape just looked upon the boy with a blank uncaring face as was usual for him.

"Sweet Merlin, who would do such a thing to a first year?" Flitwick asked them in his squeaky voice as he looked at the boy laid on the bed that he could only just see due to his small height.

"Could be any one of a dozen students', for the last two weeks Weasley has been making snide and downright spiteful comments to some of the children for the slightest thing." Professor Sprout said in a tone that said she had been expecting something like this to happen sooner or later. Well maybe not quite this bad, but she had been expecting it nonetheless.

"That's true, nearly every day my prefects report how Weasley and Malfoy are always at each other's throats." McGonagall informed them with a shake of her head.

"Yes and nearly every day since term began, I've heard the boy calling Potter an evil, dark wizard who is training to take You-Know-who's place as the next Dark Lord." Flitwick informed the group with a sad shake of his head.

"And what was Harry's response?" Dumbledore asked with slight concern.

"From what I have seen he has merely ignored the boy, sometimes he'd turn round to face Weasley and gave a huge fake yawn." Flitwick responded quietly as he swallowed a laugh at Ronald's face whenever Potter yawned at him.

"Well regardless of what Mr. Weasley may or may not have said to other students, nobody deserves this." Dumbledore began as he gestured towards Ron's still form.

"Therefore I am asking each of you to gather your houses and interview each one of them to see if the guilty party may confess or if any other student knows anything that may help us." The four heads of house nodded their heads to shows they understood the headmaster, before he continued.

"That is really all we can do until Mr. Weasley awakens and we speak with him, hopefully he saw his attacker or attackers. Meanwhile I shall contact Arthur and Molly and inform them of the situation." Dumbledore then bid them all a goodbye before he swept from the hospital wing to go contact the Weasley parents.

Snape also swept from the hospital wing not saying a word the entire time he'd been there. He hoped that it was not Potter who had attacked Weasley, he really didn't want to give his star first year Slytherin detentions and remove points for attacking a Gryffindor. He'd much rather give points for that. Then again, maybe Potter was a true Slytherin and had already arranged a suitable alibi. If that was the case, then he, Snape would not inform the others but he would keep an eye on him for any signs that the boy was going dark, but until then he would not step in and stop the boy.

_**Headmaster's office, Two hours later**_

"Do we know who attacked Mr. Weasley?" Dumbledore asked the heads of house from his seat behind a huge oak table.

"Nobody from my house has a clue and none of them looked to be lying." Professor Sprout informed them speaking up first.

"Thank you Pomona." Dumbledore replied with a slight bow of his head towards the plump Herbology professor.

"None from my house know anything either." Flitwick spoke up next. He was upset that someone would give a 1st year such a beating but at the same time he was thankful that it was not one of his students who had been beaten, plus he was pleased nobody in his house was involved.

"None from mine know anything either, though the Weasley brothers have sworn revenge." McGonagall spoke next with an unreadable expression on her face. On the one hand she was pleased at the loyalty the brothers showed to their younger sibling and yet on the other hand she did not want any of her lions to get themselves into trouble, Merlin knows the Weasley twins got into enough trouble as it is.

"Understandable, but please inform them that any acts of revenge will be severely punished." Dumbledore in formed McGonagall before he turned towards Snape with a slightly raised eyebrow.

"And what of Potter?" McGonagall asked. She had a feeling that it was Harry Potter who had attacked Ronald but she also had a feeling that they'd never be able to prove it.

"He has been in the common room all morning working on his Charms and Transfiguration." Snape replied in a bored tone of voice.

"Does he have any witnesses to prove that?" McGonagall asked in a voice that quite clearly said she did not believe a word of it.

"Let me think, Potter has been sat in the common room all morning, the students have to walk across the common room to exit through the door to the rest of the school, but no Potter does not have a single witness." Snape replied in a sarcastic voice as he looked at McGonagall as though a first year Hufflepuff could have worked out that answer.

"No need to get sarcastic." McGonagall snapped at Snape with a frown on her face.

"Well if you didn't ask such stupid questions then maybe I wouldn't need too." Snape replied bitingly as he stared down the older woman.

"Enough." Dumbledore spoke firmly before McGonagall could reply and get herself worked up. "We have done all we can to find out who attacked Mr. Weasley, now unless Ronald knows who attacked him there is nothing more we can do." His tone was final and all of the professor's knew he would hear nothing more on the subject until they had a chance to speak to Mr. Weasley the next morning when Pomfrey brought him out of his spell induced sleep.

The next day, Harry was sitting alone in the very back of the Slytherin common room reading an introduction into the Dark Arts, when Tracy and Daphne plopped into seats on either side of him, Daphne on his right and Tracy on his left.

"Hiya Harry! What'cha reading?" Daphne asked in her usual bubbly voice as she leaned over Harry's shoulder to look at the book in his lap.

"An introduction to the Dark Arts." Harry answered truthfully causing the two girls to gasp in shock.

"The Dark Arts, but there forbidden." Tracy whispered as she looked around fearfully hoping nobody had heard his reply, luckily no one was near them to have overheard Harry's reply.

"So, if I ever find myself fighting a dark wizard in the future I will need to know exactly what it is I'm fighting." Harry answered blandly yet honestly as he would one day find himself fighting a dark wizard, well Dark Lord to be more precise.

"But they are forbidden you could get in a lot of trouble just for owning that book." Daphne told him in a worried tone of voice.

"And since when did you become my mother?" Harry asked her coldly as he glared at the two girls who both shrank away from his look.

"I didn't but that doesn't mean I want to watch you go down a path of no return, just be careful." Daphne replied in a quiet voice, Harry however just looked at her uncaringly causing her to sigh in defeat.

"So do you know who attacked Weasley? Tracy asked after a few minutes silence in which Harry had gone back to reading his book.

"No." Harry replied not looking up from his book as he turned a page.

"Want a game of chess?" Daphne asked.

"No." Was Harry's reply not looking up.

"Want a game of exploding snap?" Tracy asked.

"No." Was the reply.

"Want to play any game?" Daphne asked hopefully.

"No." Harry replied as he continued to read his book.

"Want to see my naked bum." Tracy asked with a giggle thinking that Harry was not really listening to them and just answering the same to every question.

"Not right now, maybe when we're a little older." Harry replied with a smirk as he looked up at Tracy's now bright red face. His smirk grew larger as Tracy stood up and ran up to her dorm in embarrassment.

"See you later." Daphne giggled as she stood from her chair to follow her friend, giggling all the way as she did so.

Harry was able to read another two chapters before someone else dropped into a seat beside him, looking up Harry saw Marcus Flint sitting beside him.

"Potter, as you no doubt know by now I am the captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team, well this coming Wednesday we are holding trails as we need a new chaser and seeker and unlike the other three houses we encourage all years of our house to try out for the team should they wish to join, so if you wish to try out be on the Quidditch pitch no later than 7pm on Wednesday." Flint informed him as he glanced at the book Harry was reading, unlike Daphne and Tracy however, Flint didn't seem to care what he was reading about.

"I'll think about it." Harry said after a moment's thought.

"That's all I ask." Flint said with a nod before he stood to leave.

"Hey Flint." Harry called before the older boy could leave causing the boy to turn back and look at him. "Want to earn some money for an hour's work, five nights a week?" Harry asked causing the older boy to raise his eyebrows.

"I'm listening." Flint said as he dropped back into the seat beside Harry. For the next five Minutes Harry explained what he wanted from Flint before they worked out a price.

"We have a deal then young Harry, I'll see you tomorrow night, outside the common room at ten to six sharp." Flint said with a smile as he and Harry shook hands sealing the deal.

"I'll be there Marcus." Harry nodded with a smirk. His path to greatness would begin tomorrow night, nothing and no one would stand in his was as he became the greatest sorcerer to ever walk the face of the earth. He did not wish to conquer the world, oh no he wanted to be known as the absolute best to ever walk it and if he had to go through Voldemort and yes even Dumbledore to do so, then so be it.

Over the next month Harry continued to outperform all of the other 1st year students in class, always the first to 'master' a spell, always giving very detailed answers when asked a question, his home work was always at least twenty inches longer than what the Professor's had asked for whilst being nearly twice as detailed than the other students. Not a class went by where he didn't earn at least ten points for Slytherin. He had yet too loose a single point or get a single detention, he had not being caught out in the castle after curfew. To Professors and students alike, Harry James Potter was the role model that all the students should strive to be.

Of course the professors and students only saw what Harry wanted them to see, the polite, well mannered, always helpful first year student who all professor's sung their praises to each other. Behind the scenes was another story all together, Harry was very cold, uncaring and completely ruthless and remorseless. Just last week he had put Draco Malfoy's head through a window when he caught the boy alone on the 6th floor. The whelp had called Harry's mother a Mudblood whore. Well now the blonde idiot had a long scar running down the side of his face that would never fade completely, his father had had the Auror's in to do an investigation but Harry had gotten away with it yet again as he once more paid older students to say he'd been near them all afternoon.

If he had learned anything from Vernon Dursley, it was that money is a power all its own and Harry had millions of it in his grasp. As well as presenting a mask to the rest of the school, Harry had begun duelling lessons with Marcus Flint for an hour a night, 5 nights a week. He paid the 7th year 10 Galleons a lesson, 50 a week, 200 a month and for the next 9 months it would cost Harry 1'800 in total, money well spent in Harry's opinion as Flint was really taking to the lessons as he had already taught Harry how to disarm an opponent, blast an opponent with the Reducto curse along with another 10 offensive spells. He had also begun to practice some of the mild Dark spells, so far he had managed to master 5, they were a lot harder to master than the spells taught at Hogwarts, but Harry knew that with practise they would become easier to master.

_**Great Hall, Halloween**_

A thousand live bats fluttered from the walls and ceiling while a thousand more swooped over the tables in low black clouds, making the candles in the pumpkins flicker. The feast appeared suddenly on the golden plates, as it had at the start-of-term banquet. Harry sat talking quietly to Daphne, Tracy, Blaise and Theodore as they tucked into the feast.

"So did any of your families get an invite to the Ministries Christmas ball?" Theodore asked as he tucked into his plate of food. He was looking at Daphne and Tracy as he asked this.

"Yes my father already replied that we would be attending." Tracy replied once she had swallowed her mouthful of food.

"My father replied that he would go if my mother, sister and I could go but Lucius Malfoy got all the other Purebloods to block my mother from being able to attend due to her been a Muggleborn though the official reason was because my family are a so called dark family." Daphne replied with disgust; her family had been labelled dark because they refused to choose a side in the war against You-Know-Who.

"Bigoted git." Blaise spat as he glared over at Draco Malfoy who was once again sat at the Ravenclaw table in between his Hufflepuff thugs Crabbe and Goyle.

"I replied that I would be most honoured to attend the Ministry Christmas ball." Harry spoke up causing four heads to whip round and look at him in surprise.

"I mean no disrespect but who invited you?" Tracy asked in surprise as she had never heard of an eleven year old boy been invited to anything at the ministry unless he was with his family.

"Minister Fudge invited me and a guest of my choosing to be a guest at his table at the Ministry ball." Harry replied with a smirk as three jaws dropped in shock.

"Wow the Minister invited you to be a guest at his table during the ball, that's the highest show of respect you can be given during the ball." Theodore said in shock as he stared at Harry who smirked at him as he continued eating.

"So who are you going to take?" Blaise asked curiously as he too continued eating his food.

"Who said I wanted to take anyone?" Harry asked his smirk growing ever so slightly.

"You're going to go by yourself." Theodore said slightly shocked, and yet he was not really all that shocked since this was the cold, uncaring Harry Potter after all.

"Oh I'll be taking someone and I know just who to take to rile up the Malfoy's." Harry answered with a full blown smirk as he turned to face Daphne who was not paying attention to him as she tucked into a slice of toffee apple crumble.

"Ms. Greengrass." Harry called to Daphne in a formal tone as Theo and Tracy stared in shock. "Would you do me the honour of being my date to the Ministry ball this coming Christmas?" He asked her causing her to stare at him in surprise.

"You want me to be your date for the ball?" Daphne asked in surprise to be sure she had heard him right.

"As acquaintances Ms. Greengrass if you would be so kind as to accompany me." Harry replied in that same formal tone, not a hint of a smirk on his face even though he was only asking her so as to try get under the Malfoy's skins, well mainly Draco's.

"I would be delighted to accompany you Mr. Potter." Daphne replied in a formal tone before a bright smile burst onto her face to which Harry merely gave her a nod of thanks.

"Well if you will all excuse me a moment I must use the restroom." Harry said politely as he stood from his seat before he left the hall not even waiting for a reply.

Theodore was just helping himself to another baked potato when Professor Quirrell came sprinting into the hall, his turban askew and terror on his face. Everyone stared as he reached Professor Dumbledore's chair, slumped against the table, and gasped, "Troll — in the dungeons — thought you ought to know." He then sank to the floor in a dead faint. There was an uproar. It took several purple firecrackers exploding from the end of Professor Dumbledore's wand to bring silence.

"Prefects," he rumbled, "lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately!"

Miles Bletchley sprang from his seat in the middle of the Slytherin table. "Follow me! Stick together, first years! No need to fear the troll if you follow my orders! Stay close behind me, now. Make way, first years coming through! Excuse me, I'm a prefect!" And he bodily picked up a third year Ravenclaw before placing the surprised girl to the side out of his way before he continued leading the Slytherin's out of the great hall.

Suddenly Daphne stopped as she grabbed Tracy and Theodore by the arms and pulled them off to the side away from the crowds.

"Harry, he doesn't know." She gasped breathlessly as Tracy and Theodore went pale at the thoughts now running through their minds.

"Let's go find him." Theo said bravely as he turned to do just that. Tracy, however yanked him back by his collar.

"Don't be thick, the troll could be anywhere in the castle by now, we'll go inform a prefect who will then inform Snape." Tracy ordered them logically before she turned round and the three of them began sprinting towards a nearby prefect.

"Excuse me but Harry Potter went to the toilet before we found out about the troll so he doesn't know about it." Tracy informed sixth year Ravenclaw prefect Amanda Turpin.

"Right, I'll inform the Professor's you three get to your common room, quickly now." Amanda watched the three sprint towards the dungeon stairs before she turned around and began sprinting towards where she had last seen Flitwick heading.

Up on the third floor, Harry had just left the boy's bathroom and was making his way back towards the great hall when he heard a high pitched terrified scream that came from down the hall causing him to freeze in mid-step before he slowly turned around to look down the hall but it was empty. However Harry quickly began making his way down the hall. As he reached the door leading to the girl's bathroom a foul stench reached his nostrils, a mixture of old socks and the kind of public toilet no one seems to clean. And that's when he heard it, a girls terrified whimpers and a low grunting, and the shuffling footfalls of gigantic feet. Slowly and as quietly as he could Harry opened the door to the girl's bathroom before he peaked his head round the door, the sight that met his eyes caused his jaw to go slack and hang open.

It was a horrible sight. Twelve feet tall, its skin was a dull, granite grey, its great lumpy body like a boulder with its small bald head perched on top like a coconut. It had short legs thick as tree trunks with flat, horny feet. The smell coming from it was incredible. It was holding a huge wooden club, which dragged along the floor because its arms were so long.

Hermione Granger and Susan Bones were shrinking against the wall opposite, looking as if they were about to faint. The troll was advancing on them, knocking the sinks off the walls as it went.

"_Confuse it_." Harry thought to himself as he pulled his wand out and pointed it at the wall to the left of the troll. "_Reducto_.'" He whispered. The wall next to the troll exploded loudly causing the troll to pause before it turned to stare stupidly at the wall that now had a medium sized hole in the middle.

As quietly as he could Harry snuck up behind the troll before he pointed his wand at the wall on the right and he let loose another _Reducto_ curse causing another loud explosion and the troll to once more turn and stare at the wall in confusion, Harry moved with the troll as it moved, keeping himself behind the troll, he then fired another _Reducto_ at the corner opposite Hermione and Susan, as the troll moved to look over there, Harry turned to the two girls and put his finger to his lips before pointing at the door leading out of the bathroom.

Susan Bones nodded her understanding and began to quietly drag Hermione towards the exit as the troll continued to stare stupidly at the corner of the bathroom, unfortunately as the two girls reached the exit the troll spotted them and roared in anger causing the girls to turn and stare in fear as the troll advanced towards them.

"OI pee-brain." Harry yelled as he fired a Reducto at the back of the troll's head, it did not do any damage but it did get the troll's attention as its head snapped forward slightly. Turning round the troll finally spotted Harry and began advancing towards him leaving the girls alone who were still watching the troll in fear.

"RUN YOU FOOLS." Harry shouted at the girls before he dropped to the floor to avoid being hit with the troll's club, as he hit the floor Harry rolled to his left as fast as he could avoiding the club that smashed into the floor where he had been a moment before. Jumping back to his feet Harry pointed his wand at the club that was once more speeding towards his head.

"_Reducto_." Harry shouted. **BANG**! The curse struck the club exploding it in a shower of thousands of shards of wood. The troll brought the stump of it club to its face and stared at it in confusion.

Harry, meanwhile ran towards the exit only to find Susan and Hermione still stood there blocking his way out.

"Run." He shouted at them as he grabbed their arms and turned them towards the exit shoving them out the door, a roar behind him told him that the troll had spotted them. As the three students began running down the hall towards the marble stairs leading to the rest of the castle the ground shook under the running feet of the troll as it chased them down the hall.

As they raced around the corner at the end of the hall, Harry pressed himself flat against the wall as Hermione and Susan began running down the marble stairs, seconds later the troll lumbered around the corner and began making its way towards the staircase, missing Harry as it did so.

"_**REDUCTO**_." Harry roared putting all the power he could behind the spell, his wand aimed at the back of the trolls' knee, the troll roared as its knee was taken out from under it and it fell towards the stairs, however, instead of falling down the stairs as Harry had hoped the troll smashed into the banister before seconds later it fell out of sight.

**BOOM**!

The entire castle shook with the force of the troll hitting the floor moments later. Harry made his way towards the broken banister before carefully looking over the edge, there three floors down, in the entrance hall was the unmoving body of the troll that had seconds before been chasing him and the two girls who were now looking over the banister one floor down. From his vantage point Harry could see that the ground around the body of the troll was badly cracked and a dark red pool was seeping out from under the trolls face.

Down in the entrance Hall, Headmaster Albus Dumbledore stared in complete shock at the body of the huge mountain troll that had seconds before smashed face first into the ground mere feet from him, five seconds later and the troll would have landed on him as he had been making his way towards the marble stairs.

Slowly Dumbledore lifted his head to look up towards the stairs, there standing on the second floor looking over the banister was Susan Bones and Hermione Granger, but the two girls were not the ones to draws his eyes, it was the messy haired boy standing one floor above the girls that drew his attention, one Harry Potter.

As their eyes met, Dumbledore knew that the boy didn't not care that the troll was dead, the troll had been trying to kill him and Harry had responded by taking the trolls life. Dumbledore beckoned to Harry, who nodded before he began making his way down the stairs towards him, pausing only to get Susan and Hermione to follow him.

"What Happened Mr. Potter?" Dumbledore asked the boy minutes later when Harry and the two girls stood before him. And so Harry began the tale, from leaving the feast to use the bathroom right up to the point of the troll falling to its death.

Once Harry had finished his tale, it was clear to Dumbledore that Harry had not set out to kill the troll, when he had fired the Reducto curse at the back of the trolls knee he had intended for the troll to tumble down the stairs, giving himself and the two girls a chance to put as much distance between themselves and the troll as they could and hopefully draw the attention of the professors.

However as he looked into Harry's cold, emerald eyes he knew the boy had no remorse over the death of the troll and yet he still had to ask.

"Do you regret that you caused another being's death?" He asked Harry hoping for some kind of remorse from the boy.

"No the beast was trying to kill me and the ladies here, while I didn't set out to kill it, I will not lose sleep over its death either." Harry responded coldly causing the two girls to look at him in shock whilst Dumbledore looked at him sadly.

"Very well." Dumbledore said sadly.

"Headmaster, I take no pleasure from causing the death of the troll, but as I said it was trying to kill us." Harry informed Dumbledore who nodded his understanding.

Dumbledore wanted to condemn the boy for taking another's life but he found that he would have taken the trolls life in an instant if he had been in Harry's shoes. Of course he would have been full of remorse unlike Harry but he found that if he had to choose between his life and two of his students lives over the trolls then he would take the trolls every time.

"Very well Mr. Potter, for your act of bravery in saving the lives of Ms. Bones and Ms. Granger and dealing with a very real threat on the residents of Hogwarts, you shall receive an award for services to the school and let's see, 150 points to Slytherin." Dumbledore gave the boy a small smile.

"Thank you headmaster Dumbledore." Harry replied formally as he bowed his head towards Dumbledore in a show a respect.

"You are very welcome Mr. Potter and I thank you for saving the school from the troll." Dumbledore replied as he bowed his head towards Harry returning the boys show of respect.

"You're welcome sir, may I be excused to my common room if you don't need me?" Harry asked politely keeping his public mask of politeness up.

"Of course my boy." Said Dumbledore with a nod of his head.

"Good night headmaster, ladies." Harry said with a nod to the three before he turned and began making his way across the hall towards the stairs leading into the dungeons.

"Harry." a feminine voice called from behind him causing him to pause in his steps as he turned back to find Susan Bones racing towards him, Hermione not far behind her.

"I just wanted to thank you for saving our lives tonight, I doubt we would have gotten out of there alive if not for you, so I thank you for that." Susan said with a small smile as she looked Harry in the eyes.

"You're welcome Ms. Bones, think nothing of it but some day, and that day may never come, I will call upon you to do a service for me but until that day consider my help this evening a gift." Harry replied with a slight smirk as he quoted Don Corleone from the Godfather film that he had watched before he had learned about Hogwarts, when the Dursley's had been out for the day, he'd waited months for an opportunity to quote that phrase to someone.

"Sure thing Harry, I'll see you around." Susan smiled showing her ignorance of the Muggle world before she turned and began making her way towards Hufflepuff house.

"Yes, thank you for your help tonight." Hermione said before she turned to head to her own common room.

Harry turned back around and head to the Slytherin common room, he knew this tale would help cement his status as the greatest sorcerer to ever live.

**End of Chapter.**

AN: what do you all think? Please leave a review.


	7. Quidditch

_AN: Thank you all for the reviews, they are very encouraging, keep them coming, here's the next chapter._

**Quidditch**

As they entered November, the weather turned very cold. The mountains around the school became icy grey and the lake like chilled steel. Every morning the ground was covered in frost. Hagrid could be seen from the upstairs windows defrosting broomsticks on the Quidditch field, bundled up in a long moleskin overcoat, rabbit fur gloves, and enormous beaverskin boots.

The Quidditch season had begun. On Saturday, Harry would be playing in his first match after weeks of training: Slytherin versus Gryffindor. If Slytherin won, they would move up into first place in the house championship.

Hardly anyone had seen Harry play because Flint had decided that, as their secret weapon, Harry should be kept, well, secret. But the news that he was playing had leaked out somehow, and Harry was getting sick of people telling him he'd be brilliant or people telling him they'd be running around underneath him holding a mattress. If they didn't shut up Harry was going to put them on a mattress. Permanently.

Harry learned that there were seven hundred ways of committing a Quidditch foul and that all of them had happened during a World Cup match in 1473; that Seekers were usually the smallest and fastest players, and that most serious Quidditch accidents seemed to happen to them; that although people rarely died playing Quidditch, referees had been known to vanish and turn up months later in the Sahara Desert.

The day before Harry's first Quidditch match he, Blaise and Theodore were out in the freezing courtyard during break, he'd conjured them each a bright blue fire that could be carried around in jam jars.

They were standing with their backs to it, getting warm, when Snape crossed the yard. Harry noticed at once that Snape was limping. He, Blaise, and Theodore moved closer together to block the fire's from view; they were sure it wouldn't be allowed. Though Harry was sure that Snape would not take points from them as Harry was his star pupil.

"Are you ok Professor, do you want us to help you get to the hospital wing so you can have your leg looked at?" Harry asked when Snape was within earshot, playing the concerned student perfectly.

"That shall not be necessary Mr. Potter, I just twisted my ankle this morning, should be fine in a few days." Snape lied smoothly or so he thought, looking into Potter's icy eyes he got the strangest feeling that Potter knew he was lying. This was saying something since he could lie to Albus Dumbledore and Lord Voldemort and get away with it.

"Very well sir, how may we help you then?" Harry asked seemingly dropping the subject.

"I just came over to wish you luck in tomorrow's game, just in-case I didn't see you before the match." Snape replied honestly.

"Thank you sir, that was very nice of you." Harry replied politely with a slight smirk on his face. Snape and the rest of the school would get a shock at the game tomorrow.

"You're welcome, good luck then." Snape said before he turned around and began limping away wondering what the slight smirk on Harry's face was all about.

"Do you think he was telling the truth about twisting his ankle?" Blaise asked as he watched Snape limp away.

"No he was lying; he was bitten by a three headed dog on the forbidden third floor corridor." Harry replied with that same smirk on his face.

"How do you know that?" Theodore asked at the same time Daphne asked.

"What three headed dog?" Blaise asked in surprise and slight fear at the thought of a three headed dog.

Harry however just smirked at the two before dispelling the three fires and heading back towards the castle for the next lesson. Blaise and Theodore hurrying to catch up with him, asking about the dog the entire way, Harry however just smirked at them, frustrating the two boys to no end.

By eleven o'clock the next morning the whole school seemed to be out in the stands around the Quidditch pitch. Many students had binoculars. The seats might be raised high in the air, but it was still difficult to see what was going on sometimes.

Blaise and Theodore joined Daphne, Tracy, Pansy Parkinson, Millicent Bulstrode and the rest of their house in the Slytherin section of the stands. As a surprise for Harry, they had painted a large banner. It read "Prince of Slytherin," and Theo, who was good at drawing, had done a large picture of Harry's face underneath the writing and on his head he wore a coiled viper to represent the house mascot, like a crown Prince.

"Welcome to Quidditch! I'm your commentator, Lee Jordan! The Quidditch pitch has three goals at each end. The Chasers throw the Quaffle and try to put it through the hoops to score, of course that is if they can beat the keepers. Watch out for the Bludgers! These are charmed balls that can knock you off your broomstick! Two Beaters on each team try to keep them away. Remember, when the Snitch appears, it is worth one hundred and fifty points to the team whose seeker catches it." Third year Gryffindor Lee Jordan said into the megaphone, letting the gathered students know that the game was about to begin. All the spectators, student and staff alike, quietened down in anticipation of the players coming out on to the pitch.

"And now introducing the teams, first up is the Gryffindor team led by captain and keeper, Oliver Wood, he's followed by the three chasers, Katie Bell, Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet, who are followed by the two beaters Fred and George Weasley they are followed by Gryffindor's new seeker, third year Cormac McLaggen." As Lee introduced the Gryffindor team the players flew out onto the pitch as their names were called, all the while the Gryffindor section of the stands were going wild with cheering, shouting and the stamping of feet. The Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students clapped politely.

"And now the reigning champions for the past nine years, the Slytherin team, they are led onto the pitch by captain and chaser, Marcus Flint who has captained Slytherin to the last three cup wins, will Flint be able to break the Hogwarts record and win the cup for a fourth year in a row as captain, this is his last year at Hogwarts, so if Flint wants to break that record then his team must win this year. Flint of course ties Grogan Stump of Hufflepuff, who captained the Hufflepuff team to three Quidditch cup final wins and then went on to be Minister for Magic in 1811, so if Flint beats his record, he himself could go on to be Minister one day.

Anyway enough history, Flint is followed by seeker Terence Higgs who is followed by beaters Peregrine Derrick and Lucian Bole, followed quickly by keeper Miles Bletchley and the last two chasers Adrian Pucey and HARRY POTTEEEERRR." Just like the Gryffindor's, the Slytherin team flew onto the pitch as their names were called and their house supporters screamed and shouted their support; but when Harry's name was called as the last chaser the Slytherin supporters seemed to become unglued with their cheering, the entire section of the Slytherin stand seemed to tremble under the cheering and stamping students.

As Harry flew onto the pitch, he shot towards the middle before quickly spinning his broom to face the way he'd come whilst doing a handstand on his broom too the roaring approval of the Slytherin supporters. He just couldn't help it, the rush of adrenaline had gotten him pumped up for the game, he quickly joined his team mates on a quick lap around the pitch before they shot at the Gryffindor team, pulling away seconds before they all collided.

"The Slytherin team are all flying on new Nimbus 2000s, curtsey of their new chaser Harry Potter, who bought the house the new brooms, I should point out that Potter bought the brooms two weeks after he made the team and therefore he DID NOT buy his way onto the team." Lee Jordan informed the students as the two teams lined up ready for the game to begin.

"_That's why Potter was smirking yesterday."_ Head of Slytherin Severus Snape thought to himself with his own smirk as he sat with his house in the stands away from the rest of the professors who were all in the box reserved for the staff. He was a Quidditch fan at heart and sitting with his students allowed him to forget life's problems and just be a fan with no worries whatsoever. Even if it was only for a few hours; he was even wearing a Slytherin Quidditch scarf.

"The teams take their places as Madam Hooch steps out onto the pitch." Lee Jordan said into the megaphone the excitement evident in his voice. "The Bludgers are released, followed by the golden snitch, Hooch reaches into the crate and removes the Quaffle ready to release it after she's spoken with the teams." He informed them, he was silent for a moment as Madam Hooch informed the teams that she wanted a nice clean game.

"THE QUAFFLE IS RELEASED AND THE GAME BEGINS." Lee roared into the megaphone as Hooch threw the ball as hard and high as she could. The students roared their approval of the game beginning.

"Potter quickly snatches the Quaffle out from under Katie Bell's fingertips and Potter is off down the pitch, he dodges the Weasley twins and two Bludgers, look at him go, he dodges chasers Johnston and Spinnet. Potter is free as he barrels down the pitch towards the Gryffindor goals manned by Oliver Wood, Potter shoots left, no it was a fake, he shot right AND SCORES THE FIRST GOAL OF THE MATCH, TEN POINTS TO SLYTHERIN." The Slytherin supporters went wild as Harry scored the first goal in the first minute of the game. The Gryffindor team seemed to be slightly stunned by the quick goal but none more so than Oliver Wood who had never had someone score against him so quickly in a match, let-alone a first year student.

"Wood quickly releases the Quaffle back into the game, passing it to chaser Angelina Johnston who quickly begins racing towards the Slytherin goals, she passes to Katie Bell, who quickly passes to Alicia Spinnet, no Potter's there and steals the Quaffle and he's once more racing towards keeper Wood, he dodges a Bludger from one of the Weasley twins, can't tell which one, by Merlin this lad can fly, he shoots, TEN POINTS TO SLYTHERIN." The Slytherin section had barely had time to calm down from Harry's first goal before they were once more cheering their hearts out as the Gryffindor section of the stands groaned.

"Alicia Spinnet takes the Quaffle from Wood and she's off down the pitch, she dodges a Bludger hit by beater Bole, she passes to Angelina Johnston who races down the pitch, she passes to Katie Bell who shoots left, no it was a fake, she shot right TEN; NO, POTTER OUT OF NOWHERE APPEARS BEHIND THE SLYTHERIN GOAL AND PUNCHES HIS HAND THROUGH THE GOAL KNOCKING THE QUAFFLE AWAY BEFORE KATIE CAN SCORE, WHERE THE HELL DID POTTER COME FROM? The Gryffindor's groan once more because off Harry, whilst the Slytherin's cheered the save.

"Nice one Potter." Keeper Miles Bletchley shouted at Harry with a laugh as the lad flew off back down the pitch.

"Potter shoots back into the middle of the pitch breaking up the Gryffindor chasers formation allowing captain Marcus Flint to steal the Quaffle, Potter spins his broom around and shoots towards Gryffindor seeker Cormac McLaggen who has no choice but to quickly dodge the incoming first year, BY MERLIN IT SEEMS THAT POTTER CAN DO IT ALL." Lee Jordan may have been a Gryffindor student but he was getting more and more excited the more he watched Harry play.

For the next hour Harry flew around the pitch like a demon. When he wasn't scoring goals or assisting goals, he was either braking up the Gryffindor chasers formations allowing Slytherin to steal the Quaffle or he was tormenting Gryffindor seeker Cormac McLaggen, who after an hour was a nervous wreck. Slytherin seeker Terrence Higgs had free range as he looked for the Snitch as McLaggen was more interested in where Harry was and what he was doing than he was in looking for the Snitch.

Cormac may have been a third year and a Gryffindor too boot but that demon on a broom Harry Potter scared the crap out of him, he was not sure he wanted to remain on the Gryffindor Quidditch team after today, he didn't think he could take another four years of Harry Potter terrorising him on the pitch.

It was as Harry scored his twelfth goal that it happened, his broom gave a sudden, frightening lurch. For a split second, he thought he was going to fall. He gripped the broom tightly with both his hands and knees. He'd never felt anything like that.

It happened again. It was as though the broom was trying to buck him off. But Nimbus Two Thousands did not suddenly decide to buck their riders off. Harry tried to turn - he had half a mind to ask Flint to call time-out - and then he realized that his broom was completely out of his control. He couldn't turn it. He couldn't direct it at all. It was zigzagging through the air, and every now and then making violent swishing movements that almost unseated him.

Lee was still commentating.

"Slytherin in possession - Flint with the Quaffle - passes Spinnet - passes Bell - hit hard in the face by a Bludger, hope it broke his nose - only joking, Professor - Slytherin's score - A no..."

The Slytherin's were cheering. No one seemed to have noticed that Harry's broom was behaving strangely. It was carrying him slowly higher, away from the game, jerking and twitching as it went.

"Dunno what Harry thinks he's doing," Theodore mumbled. He stared through his binoculars. "If I didn't know better, I'd say he'd lost control of his broom... but he can't have..." Suddenly, people were pointing up at Harry all over the stands. His broom had started to roll over and over, with him only just managing to hold on. Then the whole crowd gasped. Harry's broom had given a wild jerk and Harry swung off it. He was now dangling from it, holding on with only one hand.

"Did something happen to it when Weasley blocked him earlier?" Susan Bones asked in horror as she and the rest of the school watched Harry cling onto his broom for dear life, Harry was now over one hundred feet up, there was no-way he'd survive a fall from that height.

"Can't have," Hagrid said, his voice shaking. "Can't nothing interfere with a broomstick except powerful Dark magic - no kid could do that to a Nimbus Two Thousand." At these words, Hermione Granger seized Hagrid's binoculars, but instead of looking up at Harry, she started looking frantically at the crowd. She and Hagrid were sat in the Hufflepuff stands with Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott, who she had become friends with after Harry saved her and Susan on Halloween. Most of Hufflepuff house had heard about the troll and Harry's action to save one of their own and that was why they were cheering politely instead of outright supporting either Gryffindor or Slytherin.

"What are you doing." moaned Susan, grey-faced as she stared in horror up at Harry frantically trying in vain to get back onto his broom, though what good it would do since he had lost total control over the broom.

"I knew it," Hermione gasped, "Quirrell - look." Susan grabbed the binoculars. Quirrell was in the middle of the stands opposite them. He had his eyes fixed on Harry and was muttering nonstop under his breath. What they didn't see was Snape doing the exact same in the Slytherin stands as he tried to save his student.

"He's doing something - jinxing the broom," said Hermione, frantically thinking of what to do to save the boy who had saved her and Susan and was indirectly responsible for getting her first two friends at Hogwarts and in her life.

"You've always said there was something off about him." Hannah commented in horror as she winced when Harry was nearly thrown from his broom. He was now 150 feet up, if he fell now they would be scraping him up for the next two months.

What nobody realised was that Flint had scored five times as everyone's attention was on Harry and Terence Higgs was frantically searching for the snitch hoping to end the game so they could find out what was wrong with Harry's broom.

For the first time in living memory the Slytherin and Gryffindor beaters were working together as they circled under Harry, hoping that, between the four of them they could catch him should he fall.

"What should we do?" Susan cried in near hysterics.

"Leave it to me." Before Susan or Hannah could say another word, Hermione had disappeared. Susan turned the binoculars back on Harry. His broom was vibrating so hard, it was almost impossible for him to hang on much longer. The whole crowd was on its feet, watching, terrified, as the Weasley twins and Derrick and Bole flew up to try and pull Harry safely onto one of their brooms, but it was no good - every time they got near him, the broom would jump higher still. They dropped lower and circled beneath him, obviously hoping to catch him if he fell.

"Come on, Hermione," Susan muttered desperately.

Hermione had fought her way across to the stand where Quirrell stood, and was now racing along the row behind him; she didn't even stop to say sorry as she knocked Professor Sprout headfirst into the row in front.

Upon reaching Quirrell she spotted Daphne Greengrass who had arrived at the same time as she did. The two nodded at each other before they drew their wands and pointed them at Quirrell's robes and whispered a few, well- chosen words. Bright blue flames shot from their wands onto the hem of Quirrell's robes. Seconds later, the Professor was lit up like a blue roman-candle as the flames engulfed the man. Fortunately or unfortunately the flames did not hurt or burn the man or his robes and he was therefore unharmed as the two girls beat a hasty retreat, one thinking they'd gone a little overboard and one wishing that the flames actually burned the bastard.

It was enough.

Harry, whose arms were dead with trying to hold onto the broom and the broom vibrating so hard was just about to let go of the broom and put his fate in god's hands, when suddenly the vibrating stopped and he was able to clamber back onto his broom, that was now completely under his control once more.

Over in the Slytherin stand, Snape smirked as he watched Quirrell dance around on fire. Before the year started, he never would have guessed that he would be so glad to see Harry escape with his life, but the young lad had grown on him. Snape now thought of him as Harry Evans, son of Lily instead of Harry Potter spawn of James.

"_Shame the flames didn't kill the bastard_." He thought to himself as he caught a glimpse of bushy hair and straight black hair retreating under the bench that Quirrell had sat on during the match.

"Twenty points each to Gryffindor and Slytherin." He whispered to himself with a smirk. Nobody would ever know it but Snape had just given points to Gryffindor for the first time since he started teaching at Hogwarts and last if he had his way.

"Tracy, you can look!" Theodore said. Tracy had been sobbing into Blaise's jacket for the last five minutes, convinced Harry was about to die.

Suddenly the crowd gasped as they caught sight of Terence Higgs. He was speeding toward the ground when the crowd saw him clap his hand to his mouth as though he was about to be sick - he hit the field on all fours - coughed - and something gold fell into his hand.

"I've got the Snitch!" he shouted, waving it above his head, and the game ended in complete confusion.

Only Severus Snape seemed to see Harry turn towards Professor Quirrell (who was no longer lit up in blue flames.) with a murderous look on his face. As he went to intercept Potter, he was secretly glad that the look had not been directed at him. Hopefully he could get to Potter before he murdered the Professor in front of the entire school; the boy may have been 11 years old but Snape had no doubt that Potter would kill if given good enough reason and if what Quirrell had tried to do was not reason enough, Snape did not know what was.

_Headmaster's office, one hour later_

"IT WAS QUIRRELL." Snape roared at the Headmaster an hour after the match had ended. He had managed to intercept Potter but only just, Potter had very nearly gotten to Quirrell and Merlin knows what would have happened if he had.

"Yes I had heard that part of your explanation." Dumbledore replied calmly as he watched Snape pace back and forth in front of his desk. "Rest assured I shall keep a closer eye on Quirrell from now on." This how seemed to enrage the potions master further.

"KEEP AN EYE ON HIM WHAT GOOD WILL THAT DO YOU OLD FOOL." Snape bellowed spittle flying from his mouth in his rage. "THE STUTTERING BASTARD JUST TRIED TO KILL A STUDENT, THE VERY SAME STUTTERING BASTARD WHO LET A TROLL, A FUCKING _MOUTAIN TROLL_ INTO THE SCHOOL AND YOU'RE GOING TO KEEP A CLOSER EYE ON HIM. WELL NOW WE CAN ALL SLEEP EASIER AT NIGHT NOW THAT ALBUS DUMBLEDORE IS KEEPING AN EYE OUT. LOOK IN THE SKY, IS IT A BIRD, IS IT A PLANE, NOOO IT'S ALBUS "I'LL KEEP AN EYE ON HIM" DUMBLEDORE."

Dumbledore who had never heard his Potions Master rant and rave like he was doing now was very surprised, but when Snape spoke that last sentence, he lost it, he could not help himself, he cracked out laughing, a deep belly laugh.

"_What_ are you laughing at you old fool?" Snape hissed as he glared at the headmaster.

"Albus – ha-ha – I'll – ha-ha – keep - ha-ha- an - ha-ha eye - ha-ha - on – ha-ha - him – ha-ha – Dumbledore." The headmaster was able to gasp out as he continued laughing as Snape dropped into a chair in front of his desk with a scowl on his face. After five minutes the headmaster was able to compose himself and stop laughing.

"I am sorry my boy but that was the funniest thing I've heard you say in years." Dumbledore said with a chuckle.

"I am sorry my boy but that was the funniest thing I've heard you say in years." Dumbledore said with a chuckle.

"You are lucky that I was able to intercept Potter when I did, another minute and you would be searching for a new DADA professor." Snape said ignoring the headmaster's last statement.

"Surely Harry would not have killed Quirrell, he is only 11 years old after all." Dumbledore said gravely as he looked at his potions master with concern. All humour now gone from his face.

"Quirrell tried and very nearly killed him, Potter wants his head on a platter." Snape informed him in a voice that said he clearly agreed with Harry. "However, since I knew that you would have thrown a bitch-fit had that happened I managed to intercept Potter and get him to promise me not to go after Quirrell and to leave me too deal with him." He watched as the headmaster seemed to sag in relief and sadness.

"Thank you my boy, let us hope that Harry keeps his promise." Dumbledore replied minutes later. He seemed to accept the fact that Harry was a cold hearted boy and not the warm, loving boy he'd hoped for when he'd left Harry with his aunt and uncle all those years ago.

"Potter did inform me that he may be ruthless and remorseless when it comes to his enemies but he always keeps his promises when it's within his power to do so." Snape informed the headmaster who seemed to brighten up slightly hearing that.

"Well that is good then." Dumbledore gave a small smile. It seemed he may have to have that talk with Harry sooner than he expected, maybe he should inform him of the Prophecy, the lad knowing that he had to one day fight Voldemort to the death should discourage him from joining with Tom, though Tom killing his parents should be enough, but even so, a little more motivation never hurt.

"Maybe." Muttered Snape. "But Potter also informed me that if he's not allowed to take revenge then he would not be attending any more of Quirrell's classes and that if the man should try something else, then all bets are off." He explained with a slight smirk; he almost wished that Quirrell would try something else just to see what Potter would do.

For the month leading up to the Christmas break Harry attended all of his classes, except Quirrell's. In the evenings he would train vigorously with Flint for an hour before he'd spend another hour learning new spells, ranging from offensive spells taught at Hogwarts to the dark arts in his books. He'd come across the killing curse_, Avada Kedavra_. He practiced the unforgivable for an hour on Saturday's and Sunday's, after a month he had almost mastered the spell. However it would be at least another a month before he mastered it fully as it was one of the hardest dark spells to master, fourth only to the mind control spell, the _Imperious_ curse, the torture spell, the _Cruciatus_ curse and the extremely powerful _Fiendfyre_.

As the Christmas break drew closer Harry was preparing himself for the Ministry ball and also researching just what was hidden on the third floor corridor. That was until Tracy came to him one evening.

"Hi Harry." Tracy smiled at him as she took a seat next to him in the common room.

"Ms. Davis." Harry greeted her formally as he always did no matter how much Tracy, Daphne Blaise and Theodore asked him to use their first names.

"What are you doing for Christmas break? Are you going spend it with your family?"

"The only family I have left are my aunt, uncle and cousin and I would rather cut out my own spleen and eat it than spend Christmas with them." Harry replied in a bland tone, yet Tracy got the feeling that he was speaking the absolute truth.

"They really that bad?" she asked after a moment. Harry's only reply was a short nod.

"To answer your question I plan to spend Christmas here on my own." Harry said as he turned a page in his book.

"You can't spend Christmas on your own." Tracy informed him as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"It's fine, really, I'm used to it." Harry replied as he flipped the page of the book he was researching. This was it, what he had been looking for, it had to be.

_**The philosophers' stone**_

_The philosophers' stone or stone of the philosophers is a legendary alchemical substance said to be capable of turning base metals such as lead into gold. It is also able to create an elixir of life, useful for rejuvenation and also for achieving immortality; for many centuries, it was the most sought-after goal in alchemy. The philosophers' stone was the central symbol of the mystical terminology of alchemy, symbolizing perfection at its finest, enlightenment, and heavenly bliss. Efforts to discover the philosophers' stone were known as the Magnum Opus ("Great Work")  
><em> 

_The famed alchemist Nicolas Flamel created the only Philosopher's Stone which is known to exist. Flamel used the Elixir of Life made from the stone to extend his and his wife Perenelle's lifespan for over six centuries._

This was it, what Quirrell was after, it had to be, but why? Why did Quirrell want the stone, it was not like he needed the gold the stone could give him, he had a well-paying teachers job and the Quirrell family was hardly poor, far from it; so if it wasn't the gold he was after, was he after immortality?

Harry stood up and began pacing the common room completely ignoring Tracy asking if he wanted to spend Christmas with her family and the students around the common room.

The simple answer was yes, he was after the immortality, but not for himself, he wanted it for Lord Voldemort, it was the only thing that made sense. Why else would he want the stone, why else would he try to kill Harry in that Quidditch match? Voldemort.

From his research of Voldemort and the war against him, all that was left of the Dark Lord after that night ten years ago was Voldemort's cloak and wand, no body or ash or anything, which meant that Voldemort was still out there, whether or not he had a body, Harry didn't know but for whatever reason Voldemort needed that stone to come back fully.

"_Useful for rejuvenation_." Harry stopped dead in his tracks as he remembered that part of the book he had just read.

"_Voldemort was weak, injured perhaps and he needed the stone to regain his strength and heal_." Harry didn't know it but he was right on the mark with that thought, excluding the fact that Voldemort needed the stone for a body.

"_If Voldemort is able to come back now I'm screwed, I'm nowhere near strong enough to face him and win_." He resumed his pacing as he thought of who he could inform of his findings, he was sure that he was right, it was the only thing that made sense.

"_Tell Snape_." Apart of his mind said but another part said no. "_Snape may be a good teacher and head of House but he's a slippery bastard who I would trust as far as I could throw him."_ And then the answer came to him.

"_Tell Dumbledore_." He thought as he once again stopped his pacing. "_Dumbledore started an organisation dedicated to protecting the Wizarding and Muggle worlds from Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters, surely the Headmaster was the right person to tell."_

With his mind made up, Harry turned around and quickly exited the common room, completely forgetting that Tracy had been asking him about his Christmas plans, but surely stopping Voldemort was more important that Christmas.

Harry had come to accept the fact that he would need Dumbledore to beat Voldemort, the man was powerful and an extremely gifted Dueller, he had beaten the Dark Lord Grindelwald and was the only man Voldemort was said to fear; therefore Harry would need Dumbledore to train him in Duelling so he stood half a chance of beating Voldemort.

As he made it to the entrance hall he realised that he did not have a clue as to where the Headmasters office was. Looking round Harry spotted his captain Marcus Flint, he made his was over.

"Flint." Harry called before the older boy could exit the castle, the boy turned around and seeing that it was Harry, he closed the door leading out onto the grounds and waited for Harry to reach him.

"What can I do for you Potter?" Flint asked his star chaser with a smile and a raised eyebrow, the last time Harry had called after him like this, his team had all ended up with new brooms, so he always had time for the first year boy.

"Can you tell me where the Headmaster's office is please, I need a word with him?" Harry asked politely as he stopped a few feet away from the older boy.

"Of course I can lad." Flint grinned in pride that Harry had asked him and not a prefect or the head boy or girl, of course he didn't know that he was the first person Harry had spotted and that he hadn't sought him out especially but he didn't need to know that right.

"It is on the third floor along Gargoyle Corridor opposite the forbidden corridor, go right to the end of the corridor and you will find a Gargoyle in front of a set of moving stairs, the password to get past the Gargoyle is "Sherbet Lemon." Flint explained.

"Third floor, end of corridor, Gargoyle password Sherbet Lemon, got it, thanks Flint." Harry replied before shaking Flint's hands in thanks before he turned around and headed up the marble staircase to the third floor.

As he reached the top of the stone, circular staircase, he was confronted by a huge solid oak door, stepping off the staircase Harry approached the door and knocked.

"Come in Harry." Came the Headmasters voice from inside the office, surprising Harry.

Opening the door Harry was greeted with a large and beautiful circular room, full of funny little noises. As he walked further into the office he noticed a number of curious silver instruments stood on spindle-legged tables, whirring and emitting little puffs of smoke. The walls were covered with portraits of old headmasters and headmistresses, all of whom were snoozing gently in their frames. There was also an enormous, claw-footed desk, and, sitting on a shelf behind it, a shabby, tainted wizard's hat - the Sorting Hat.

Sat behind the desk was the Headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore. He was tall and thin, with silver hair and beard (auburn in his youth) so long that they could be tucked into his belt. He had a very long and crooked nose that looked as if it had been broken at least twice. He looked to be a benign, bright-eyed old man but Harry knew that beneath that was a powerful wizard, who when angered was said to be more terrifying than Lord Voldemort himself.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?" Dumbledore asked Harry with a kind, gentle smile as he motioned for Harry to take a seat in front of his desk.

After he had taken a seat in front of the desk and gotten comfy, Harry looked the Headmaster in the eyes as he spoke just one word.

"Voldemort." Harry answered in a serious tone. As he spoke the name he noticed that Dumbledore nodded his head sagely, as though he had been expecting and waiting for Harry to come to him about the Dark Lord Voldemort.

**End of Chapter**

_AN: What do you think? Good cliff-hanger? Please review. _


	8. The History of Lord Voldemort Part I

_AN; this will contain quiet a lot of parts from the sixth book, as I have decided that Harry will visit the pensive memories now, and I want the memories to be the ones from cannon. I have of course put in my own content and twist to it but ultimately the memories will be the same._

_**You have been warned.**_

**The History of Lord Voldemort Part I **

_As he reached the top of the stone, circular staircase, he was confronted by a huge solid oak door, stepping off the staircase Harry approached the door and knocked._

_"Come in Harry." Came the Headmasters voice from inside the office, surprising Harry._

_Opening the door Harry was greeted with a large and beautiful circular room, full of funny little noises. As he walked further into the office he noticed a number of curious silver instruments stood on spindle-legged tables, whirring and emitting little puffs of smoke. The walls were covered with portraits of old headmasters and headmistresses, all of whom were snoozing gently in their frames. There was also an enormous, claw-footed desk, and, sitting on a shelf behind it, a shabby, tainted wizard's hat - the Sorting Hat._

_Sat behind the desk was the Headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore. He was tall and thin, with silver hair and beard (auburn in his youth) so long that they could be tucked into his belt. He had a very long and crooked nose that looked as if it had been broken at least twice. He looked to be a benign, bright-eyed old man but Harry knew that beneath that was a powerful wizard, who when angered was said to be more terrifying than Lord Voldemort himself._

_"To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?" Dumbledore asked Harry with a kind, gentle smile as he motioned for Harry to take a seat in front of his desk._

_After he had taken a seat in front of the desk and gotten comfy, Harry looked the Headmaster in the eyes as he spoke just one word._

_"Voldemort." Harry answered in a serious tone. As he spoke the name he noticed that Dumbledore nodded his head sagely, as though he had been expecting and waiting for Harry to come to him about the Dark Lord Voldemort._

"I have been expecting you to come and ask me about Lord Voldemort." Dumbledore stated as he picked up his wand, as he did so he noticed that Harry tensed ever so slightly and his hand twitched as though he wanted to go for his wand. "Cup of tea?" he asked with a kind smile.

"Yes please." Harry replied with a nod. He felt a little stupid, of course Dumbledore wasn't going to curse him, why would he? He watched as the aged Headmaster waived his wand and silently conjured a tea set and went about pouring them both a drink.

"Anyway as I said, I had been expecting you too come and ask me about Lord Voldemort, though if I am honest, I didn't expect you to ask until at least next year." Dumbledore explained as he passed Harry his cup of tea along with the sugar and milk.

"Why did you expect me to come to you next year?" Harry asked as he put half a teaspoon of sugar and drop of milk in his tea.

"Madam Pince told me of your obsession with You-Know-Who and the war against him, her words not mine." Dumbledore explained as he stirred his drink.

"To be honest, I am obsessed with him, the bastard killed my parents and tried to kill me." Harry replied as he took a swig of his tea, the hot liquid was soothing and helped to relax him somewhat.

"When I read that you lead the fight against him, I knew that I would have to come to you at some point, the paper said that you are the only one he ever feared and the only wizard in the world to duel him seven times and live to tell the tale." Dumbledore stayed silent sensing that Harry was not yet finished speaking.

"I know that Voldemort is still alive and that he is trying to come back to power." Harry stated quietly as he stared at his cup completely missing Dumbledore's jaw dropping in shock.

"How do you know that Voldemort is still alive?" Dumbledore asked after he got his wits about him.

"Ever since I returned to the Wizarding world, my scar twinges every so often, the same scar he left when he tried to kill me." Harry looked up to find Dumbledore looking back at him with a sad look on his face.

"The break-in at Gringotts and Quirrell trying to kill me in that match all point to one thing, Voldemort." Harry said as he downed half of his drink.

"You are of course correct, Lord Voldemort is alive and trying to come back to full power." Dumbledore replied with a grim tone as he looked at Harry.

"_Should I tell him of the Prophecy_?" He asked himself. He was in two minds with that, on the one hand telling him could help him to prepare for the final fight with Tom, and on the other hand Harry might just leave, plain and simply leave. He might not be ready to learn that he is to battle the Darkest of the Dark Lord's.

"I thought so." Harry nodded his head with a sigh, a part of him had hoped that he was just been paranoid and Voldemort was well and truly dead.

"I need you to prepare me for the final fight against Voldemort." Harry said pulling the Headmaster from his thoughts.

"What did you say?" Dumbledore asked in shock, surely Harry didn't already know the prophecy, did he?

"I think you heard me sir, I need training to be able to fight and defeat Voldemort once and for all." Harry said calmly as he stared Dumbledore straight in the eyes.

"But…."

I know the Prophecy sir." Harry interrupted Dumbledore before he could protest.

_"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…" _

"How." Dumbledore breathed in shock, not quite able to believe that Harry knew the prophecy word-by-word.

For an answer Harry pulled out a worn piece of folded parchment and handed it to Dumbledore.

**_"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies ... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not ... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives ... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies ..."_**

_"Hi Harry, it your mum here. I'm sorry to have to inform you, but you are destined to kill or be killed by the Dark Lord Voldemort. But don't let this Prophecy rule your life, Harry. You must enjoy your life, make friends, date girls and most importantly, have fun."_

_Harry, it's your father; my piece of advice is different from your mothers, while I want you to have fun, prank people and woo the girls, I also want you to take care and train for your eventual battle with Voldemort._

_Remember Voldemort is the most powerful dark wizard of the modern age, not even Dumbledore can match him in power and skill so unless you can beat Dumbledore in a duel then you are NOT ready to try and beat Voldemort. I am however, confident that you CAN and WILL one day beat the bastard. But until then train as hard as you can but remember to LIVE your life but NEVER trust anyone completely as even the last person you would ever expect to, CAN betray you, trust me on this. "_**_Constant vigilance_**_!" as my Auror trainer Moody would roar after firing a spell at me._

_Live your life but NEVER let your guard down for even a second._

_Love always,_

_James and Lily Potter (Mum and Dad)_

_"They wanted you to have a much time as possible to prepare for Voldemort." Dumbledore smiled a small sad smile as he handed Harry the precious letter back._

_"My thoughts exactly." Harry nodded as he carefully folded the letter and put it back in his pocket. He carried the letter with him everywhere he went, ever since he got it all those weeks ago and he would continue to carry it with him until Voldemort was well and truly dead. _

_"Very well, I will help you in your quest to defeat Voldemort." Dumbledore said after a moment, his mind made up. If Harry's own parents had decided that he needed to know the prophecy as soon as possible, then who was he to complain? He would take this opportunity with both hands and he would make sure Harry both beat Voldemort and lived to tell the tale._

_"Thank you sir." Harry replied gratefully, knowing that he now had a much better chance of defeating Voldemort, than he did with just duelling lessons from older students, the Headmaster would be able to teach him things that the other students couldn't even dream off._

_ "But there is a condition: You must obey any command I give you — without question." Dumbledore said seriously as he stood from his desk._

_"Sir?" Harry asked with slight confusion. _

_"I will very rarely, if ever command you to do anything, but should it ever come up where I command you to abandon me and save your own life, then you must do so without question." Dumbledore explained as he walked over to a cabinet and opened the door before reaching inside._

_"Yes sir, you have my word." Harry replied now fully understanding what the Headmaster had meant when he said `obey any command._

_As Dumbledore straightened up Harry saw that he was holding a _shallow stone basin etched with odd markings around its rim. He placed the basin on the desk in front of Harry.

"What is that sir?" Harry asked as he eyed the basin, wondering just what the aged wizard had in mind.

"This Harry, is a Pensive, it allows one to store memories inside and also allows one to revisit said memories." Dumbledore explained as he went over to another cabinet and waiving his wand, unlocked said cabinet and reaching inside pulled out a box full of tall, clear veils with swirling slivery-white mist inside.

"Sounds useful, are those your memories then?" Harry asked as he watched Dumbledore place the box on the table.

"Some are mine and the rest are what I acquired from others willing to share their knowledge of Voldemort, or as he was once known, Tom Marvolo Riddle." Dumbledore explained as he motioned for Harry to stand.

_"Where are we going, sir?"_

_"For a trip down Bob Ogden's memory lane," said Dumbledore as he removed one of the bottles from the box. "I had planned to show these to you when you were older and knew of the prophecy, but since you know it, no time like the present. _

_"Yes sir." Harry nodded his agreement. ""Who was Bob Ogden?"_

_""He was employed by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement," said Dumbledore. "He died some time ago, but not before I had tracked him down and persuaded him to confide these recollections to me. We are about to accompany him on a visit he made in the course of his duties."_

_Dumbledore tipped the silvery contents of the bottle into the Pensive, where they swirled and shimmered, neither liquid nor gas._

_"Shall we go and visit Tom's Mother, Uncle and Grandfather?" Dumbledore asked with a smile and a twinkle in his eyes at Harry's surprised expression._

_"To be able to defeat Voldemort, you must first understand the man and what made him become what he did." Dumbledore explained getting a nod of agreement from Harry._

_"Makes sense." _

"After you," said Dumbledore, gesturing toward the bowl. Harry bent forward, took a deep breath, and plunged his face into the silvery substance. He felt his feet leave the office floor; he was falling, falling through whirling darkness and then, quite suddenly, he was blinking in dazzling sunlight. Before his eyes had adjusted, Dumbledore landed beside him.

They were standing in a country lane bordered by high, tangled hedgerows, beneath a summer sky as bright and blue as a forget-me-not. Some ten feet in front of them stood a short, plump man wearing enormously thick glasses that reduced his eyes to mole like specks. He was reading a wooden signpost that was sticking out of the brambles on the left-hand side of the road. Harry knew this must be Ogden; he was the only person in sight, and he was also wearing a strange assortment of clothes so often chosen by in-experienced wizards trying to look like Muggles: in this case, a frock coat and spats over a striped one-piece bathing costume. Before Harry had time to do more than register his bizarre appearance, however, Ogden had set off at a brisk walk down the lane.

Dumbledore and Harry followed. As they passed the wooden sign, Harry looked up at its two arms. The one pointing back the way they had come read: Great Hangleton, 5 miles. The arm pointing after Ogden said Little Hangleton, 1 mile.

They walked a short way with nothing to see but the hedgerows, the wide blue sky overhead and the swishing, frock-coated figure ahead. Then the lane curved to the left and fell away, sloping steeply down a hillside, so that they had a sudden, unexpected view of a whole valley laid out in front of them. Harry could see a village, undoubtedly Little Hangleton, nestled between two steep hills, its church and graveyard clearly visible. Across the valley, set on the opposite hillside, was a handsome manor house surrounded by a wide expanse of velvety green lawn.

Ogden had broken into a reluctant trot due to the steep down-ward slope. Dumbledore lengthened his stride, and Harry hurried to keep up.

He thought Little Hangleton must be their final destination and wondered why they had to approach it from such a distance. He soon discovered that he was mistaken in thinking that they were going to the village, however. The lane curved to the right and when they rounded the corner, it was to see the very edge of Ogden's frock coat vanishing through a gap in the hedge.

Dumbledore and Harry followed him onto a narrow dirt track bordered by higher and wilder hedgerows than those they had left behind. The path was crooked, rocky, and potholed, sloping down-hill like the last one, and it seemed to be heading for a patch of dark trees a little below them. Sure enough, the track soon opened up

At the copse, and Dumbledore and Harry came to a halt behind Ogden, who had stopped and drawn his wand.

Despite the cloudless sky, the old trees ahead cast deep, dark, cool shadows, and it was a few seconds before Harry's eyes discerned the building half-hidden amongst the tangle of trunks. It seemed to him a very strange location to choose for a house, or else an odd decision to leave the trees growing nearby, blocking all light and the view of the valley below. He wondered whether it was inhabited; its walls were mossy and so many tiles had fallen off the roof that the rafters were visible in places. Nettles grew all around it, their tips reaching the windows, which were tiny and thick with grime. Just as he had concluded that nobody could possibly live there, however, one of the windows was thrown open with a clatter, and a thin trickle of steam or smoke issued from it, as though somebody was cooking.

Ogden moved forward quietly and, it seemed to Harry, rather cautiously. As the dark shadows of the trees slid over him, he stopped again, staring at the front door, to which somebody had nailed a dead snake.

Then there was a rustle and a crack, and a man in rags dropped from the nearest tree, landing on his feet right in front of Ogden, who leapt backward so fast he stood on the tails of his frock coat and stumbled.

"You're not welcome."

The man standing before them had thick hair so matted with dirt it could have been any colour. Several of his teeth were missing. His eyes were small and dark and stared in opposite directions. He might have looked comical, but he did not; the effect was frightening, and Harry could not blame Ogden for backing away several more paces before he spoke.

"Er — good morning. I'm from the Ministry of Magic —"

"Er — I'm sorry — I don't understand you," said Ogden nervously.

Harry thought Ogden was being extremely dim; the stranger was making himself very clear in Harry's opinion, particularly as he was brandishing a wand in one hand and a short and rather bloody knife in the other.

"Can you understand him Harry?" Dumbledore questioned him with a small frown.

"Yes of course, can't you." Harry replied as he turned to look at the headmaster.

"No, he is speaking Parseltongue and for all the other languages I can speak, the tongue of serpents is one that has always eluded me." Dumbledore explained with a small smile, the memory seemed to have paused as Harry and Dumbledore spoke.

"Tongue of serpents?"

"It means you can speak to snakes." Replied Dumbledore.

"But how can I speak another language without knowing I can speak it?" asked a very confused Harry.

"You can speak Parseltongue, Harry," said Dumbledore calmly, "because Lord Voldemort - who is the last remaining descendant of Salazar Slytherin - can speak Parseltongue. Unless I'm much mistaken, he transferred some of his own powers to you the night he gave you that scar. Not something he intended to do, I'm sure"

"Voldemort put a bit of himself in me?" Harry said, thunderstruck.

"It certainly seems so."

"Our lives and destinies are more entwined than I ever thought." Harry whispered as he swallowed his shock, get over it and move on was a favourite saying of his and now was no different.

"Shall we continue?" Dumbledore asked gesturing the memory waiting for them.

"Yes." Said Harry as he turned back to Bob and the strange man, who were frozen in place for a split second before Harry blinked and the memory continued as though there was no pause or conversation between Harry and Dumbledore.

The man in rags was now advancing on Ogden, knife in one hand, wand in the other.

"Now, look —" Ogden began, but too late: There was a bang, and Ogden was on the ground, clutching his nose, while a nasty yellowish goo squirted from between his fingers.

"Morfin!" said a loud voice.

An elderly man had come hurrying out of the cottage, banging the door behind him so that the dead snake swung pathetically. This man was shorter than the first, and oddly proportioned; his shoulders were very broad and his arms overlong, which, with his bright brown eyes, short scrubby hair, and wrinkled face, gave him the look of a powerful, aged monkey. He came to a halt beside the man with the knife, who was now cackling with laughter at the sight of Ogden on the ground.

"Ministry, is it?" said the older man, looking down at Ogden.

"Correct!" said Ogden angrily, dabbing his face. "And you, I take it, are Mr. Gaunt?"

"S'right," said Gaunt. "Got you in the face, did he?"

"Yes, he did!" snapped Ogden.

"Should've made your presence known, shouldn't you?" said Gaunt aggressively. "This is private property. Can't just walk in here and not expect my son to defend himself."

"Defend himself against what, man?" said Ogden, clambering back to his feet.

"Busybodies. Intruders. Muggles and filth." Ogden pointed his wand at his own nose, which was still issuing large amounts of what looked like yellow pus, and the flow stopped at once.

Mr. Gaunt spoke out of the corner of his mouth to Morfin. "Get in the house. Don't argue."

This time, ready for it, Harry recognized Parseltongue; even while he could understand what was being said, he distinguished the weird hissing noise that was all Ogden could hear. Morfin seemed to be on the point of disagreeing, but when his father cast him a threatening look he changed his mind, lumbering away to the cottage with an odd rolling gait and slamming the front door behind him, so that the snake swung sadly again.

"It's your son I'm here to see, Mr. Gaunt," said Ogden, as he mopped the last of the pus from the front of his coat. "That was Morfin, wasn't it?"

"Aye, that was Morfin," said the old man indifferently. "Are you pure-blood?" he asked, suddenly aggressive.

"That's neither here nor there," said Ogden coldly, and Harry felt his respect for Ogden rise. Apparently Gaunt felt rather differently.

He squinted into Ogden's lace and muttered, in what was clearly supposed to be an offensive tone, "Now I come to think about it, I've seen noses like yours down in the village."

"I don't doubt it, if your sons been let loose on them," said Ogden. "Perhaps we could continue this discussion inside?"

"Inside?"

"Yes, Mr. Gaunt. I've already told you. I'm here about Morfin. We sent an owl —"

"I've no use for owls," said Gaunt. "I don't open letters."

"Then you can hardly complain that you get no warning of visitors," said Ogden tartly. "I am here following a serious breach of Wizarding law, which occurred here in the early hours of this morning —"

"All right, all right, all right!" bellowed Gaunt. "Come in the bleeding house, then, and much good it'll do you!"

The house seemed to contain three tiny rooms. Two doors led off the main room, which served as kitchen and living room combined. Morfin was sitting in a filthy armchair beside the smoking fire, twisting a live adder between his thick fingers and crooning softly at it in Parseltongue:

Hissy, hissy, little snakey, Slither on the floor, you be good to Morfin or he'll nail you to the door."

"_No wonder Voldemort is so messed up coming nutters like him_." Harry thought as he watched Morfin and the adder.

There was a scuffling noise in the corner beside the open window, and Harry realized that there was somebody else in the room, a girl whose ragged grey dress was the exact colour of the dirty stone wall behind her. She was standing beside a steaming pot on a grimy black stove, and was fiddling around with the shelf of squalid-looking pots and pans above it. Her hair was lank and dull and she had a plain, pale, rather heavy face. Her eyes, like her brother's, stared in opposite directions. She looked a little cleaner than the two men, but Harry thought he had never seen a more defeated-looking person.

"M'daughter, Merope," said Gaunt grudgingly, as Ogden looked inquiringly toward her.

"Good morning," said Ogden.

She did not answer, but with a frightened glance at her father turned her back on the room and continued shifting the pots on the shelf behind her.

"Is she? Harry asked as he looked at the Headmaster.

"Yes Harry, she is Voldemort's mother." Dumbledore answered sadly wondering just how different Tom would have turned out had he grown up with a mother's love to guide him.

"Well, Mr. Gaunt," said Ogden, "to get straight to the point, we have reason to believe that your son, Morfin, performed magic in front of a Muggle late last night."

There was a deafening clang. Merope had dropped one of the pots.

"Pick it up!" Gaunt bellowed at her. "That's it, grub on the floor like some filthy Muggle, what's your wand for, you useless sack of muck?"

"Mr. Gaunt, please!" said Ogden in a shocked voice, as Merope, who had already picked up the pot, flushed blotchily scarlet, lost her grip on the pot again, drew her wand shakily from her pocket, pointed it at the pot, and muttered a hasty, inaudible spell that caused the pot to shoot across the floor away from her, hit the opposite wall, and crack in two.

Morfin let out a mad cackle of laughter. Gaunt screamed, "Mend it, you pointless lump, mend it!"

Merope stumbled across the room, but before she had time to raise her wand, Ogden had lifted his own and said firmly, "_Reparo_." The pot mended itself instantly.

Gaunt looked for a moment as though he was going to shout at Ogden, but seemed to think better of it: Instead, he jeered at his daughter, "Lucky the nice man from the Ministry's here, isn't it? Perhaps he'll take you off my hands, perhaps he doesn't mind dirty Squibs. . . ."

Without looking at anybody or thanking Ogden, Merope picked up the pot and returned it, hands trembling, to its shelf. She then stood quite still, her back against the wall between the filthy window and the stove, as though she wished for nothing more than to sink into the stone and vanish.

"Mr. Gaunt," Ogden began again, "as I've said: the reason for my visit —"

"I heard you the first time!" snapped Gaunt. "And so what? Morfin gave a Muggle a bit of what was coming to him — what about it, then?"

"Morfin has broken Wizarding law," said Ogden sternly.

"'Morfin has broken Wizarding law.'" Gaunt imitated Ogden's voice, making it pompous and singsong. Morfin cackled again. "He taught a filthy Muggle a lesson, that's illegal now, is it?"

"Yes," said Ogden. "I'm afraid it is."

He pulled from an inside pocket a small scroll of parchment and unrolled it.

"What's that, then, his sentence?" said Gaunt, his voice rising angrily.

"It is a summons to the Ministry for a hearing —"

"Summons! Summons? Who do you think you are, summoning my son anywhere?"

"I'm Head of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad," said Ogden.

"And you think we're scum, do you?" screamed Gaunt, advancing on Ogden now, with a dirty yellow-nailed finger pointing at his chest. "Scum who'll come running when the Ministry tells 'em to? Do you know who you're talking to, you filthy little Mudblood, do you?"

"I was under the impression that I was speaking to Mr. Gaunt," said Ogden, looking wary, but standing his ground.

Harry cracked a grin, even though the man was outnumbered by two clearly deranged and dangerous men, Ogden was brave enough to show he had a set of stones between his legs and Harry's respect for the man grew that much more.

"That's right!" roared Gaunt. For a moment, Harry thought Gaunt was making an obscene hand gesture, but then realized that he was showing Ogden the ugly, black-stoned ring he was wearing on his middle finger, waving it before Ogden's eyes. "See this? See this? Know what it is? Know where it came from? Centuries it's been in our family, that's how far back we go, and pure-blood all the way! Know how much I've been offered for this, with the Peverell coat of arms engraved on the stone?"

"I've really no idea," said Ogden, blinking as the ring sailed within an inch of his nose, "and it's quite beside the point, Mr. Gaunt. Your son has committed —"

"Peverell?" Harry asked Dumbledore with a gasp as his head snapped to look at the Headmaster.

"Yes Harry, you and Lord Voldemort are third cousins." Dumbledore answered sorrowfully, here was another family member for Harry and they were mortal enemies, destined to fight to the death. Sometimes life really was a cruel mistress.

"Bloody hell." Harry shook his head in shame, another cousin who he hated, was he destined to hate all his cousins, and he smirked at the thought of what the Prophet would do with that information.

With a howl of rage, Gaunt ran toward his daughter. For a split second, Harry thought he was going to throttle her as his hand flew to her throat; next moment, he was dragging her toward Ogden by a gold chain around her neck.

"See this?" he bellowed at Ogden, shaking a heavy gold locket at him, while Merope spluttered and gasped for breath.

"I see it, I see it!" said Ogden hastily.

"Slytherin's!" yelled Gaunt. "Salazar Slytherin's! We're his last living descendants, what do you say to that, eh?"

"Mr. Gaunt, your daughter!" said Ogden in alarm, but Gaunt had already released Merope; she staggered away from him, back to her corner, massaging her neck and gulping for air.

"So!" said Gaunt triumphantly, as though he had just proved a complicated point beyond all possible dispute. "Don't you go talking to us as if we're dirt on your shoes! Generations of purebloods, wizards all — more than you can say, I don't doubt!"

And he spat on the floor at Ogden's feet. Morfin cackled again. Merope, huddled beside the window, her head bowed and her face hidden by her lank hair, said nothing.

"Mr. Gaunt," said Ogden doggedly, "I am afraid that neither your ancestors nor mine have anything to do with the matter at hand. I am here because of Morfin, Morfin and the Muggle he accosted late last night. Our information" — he glanced down at his scroll of parchment — "is that Morfin performed a jinx or hex on the said Muggle, causing him to erupt in highly painful hives."

Morfin giggled.

"Be quiet, boy," snarled Gaunt in Parseltongue, and Morfin fell silent again.

"And so what if he did, then?" Gaunt said defiantly to Ogden, "I expect you've wiped the Muggle's filthy face clean for him, and his memory to boot —"

"That's hardly the point, is it, Mr. Gaunt?" said Ogden. "This was an unprovoked attack on a defenceless —"

"Ar, I had you marked out as a Muggle-lover the moment I saw you," sneered Gaunt, and he spat on the floor again.

"This discussion is getting us nowhere," said Ogden firmly. "It is clear from your son's attitude that he feels no remorse for his actions." He glanced down at his scroll of parchment again. "Morfin will attend a hearing on the fourteenth of September to answer the charges of using magic in front of a Muggle and causing harm and distress to that same Mugg —"

Ogden broke off. The jingling, clopping sounds of horses and loud, laughing voices were drifting in through the open window. Apparently the winding lane to the village passed very close to the copse where the house stood. Gaunt froze, listening, his eyes wide. Morfin hissed and turned his face toward the sounds, his expression hungry. Merope raised her head. Her face, Harry saw, was starkly white.

"My God, what an eyesore!" rang out a girl's voice, as clearly audible through the open window as if she had stood in the room be-side them. "Couldn't your father have that hovel cleared away, Tom?"

"It's not ours," said a young man's voice. "Everything on the other side of the valley belongs to us, but that cottage belongs to an old tramp called Gaunt, and his children. The son's quite mad, you should hear some of the stories they tell in the village —"

The girl laughed. The jingling, clopping noises were growing louder and louder.

Morfin made to get out of his armchair. , "Keep your seat," said his father warningly, in Parseltongue.

"Tom," said the girl's voice again, now so close they were clearly right beside the house, "I might be wrong — but has somebody nailed a snake to that door?"

"Good lord, you're right!" said the man's voice. "That'll be the son, I told you he's not right in the head. Don't look at it, Cecilia, darling.

The jingling and clopping sounds were now growing faint again.

"'Darling,'" whispered Morfin in Parseltongue, looking at his sister. "'Darling, he called her. So he wouldn't have you anyway."

Merope was so white Harry felt sure she was going to faint.

"What's that?" said Gaunt sharply, also in Parseltongue, looking from his son to his daughter. "What did you say, Morfin?"

"She likes looking at that Muggle, "said Morfin, a vicious expression on his face as he stared at his sister, who now looked terrified. Always in the garden when he passes, peering through the hedge at him, isn't she? And last night —"

Merope shook her head jerkily, imploringly, but Morfin went on ruthlessly, "Hanging out of the window waiting for him to ride home, wasn't she?"

"Hanging out of the window to look at a Muggle?" said Gaunt quietly.

All three of the Gaunt's seemed to have forgotten Ogden, who was looking both bewildered and irritated at this renewed outbreak of incomprehensible hissing and rasping.

"Is it true?" said Gaunt in a deadly voice, advancing a step or two toward the terrified girl. "My daughter—pure-blooded descendant of Salazar Slytherin — hankering after a filthy, dirt-veined Muggle?"

Merope shook her head frantically, pressing herself into the wall, apparently unable to speak.

"But I got him, Father!" cackled Morfin. "I got him as he went by and he didn't look so pretty with hives all over him, did he, Merope?"

"You disgusting little Squib, you filthy little blood traitor!" roared Gaunt, losing control, and his hands closed around his daughter's throat.

Ogden yelled "No!" raised his wand and cried,

"_Relashio_!"

Gaunt was thrown backward, away from his daughter; he tripped over a chair and fell flat on his back. With a roar of rage, Morfin leapt out of his chair and ran at Ogden, brandishing his bloody knife and firing hexes indiscriminately from his wand.

Ogden ran for his life. Dumbledore indicated that they ought to follow and Harry obeyed, Merope's screams echoing in his ears.

Ogden hurtled up the path and erupted onto the main lane, his arms over his head, where he collided with the glossy chestnut horse ridden by a very handsome, dark-haired young man. Both he and the pretty girl riding beside him on a grey horse roared with laughter at the sight of Ogden, who bounced off the horse's flank and set off again, his frock coat flying, covered from head to foot in dust, running pell-mell up the lane.

"I think that will do, Harry," said Dumbledore. He took Harry by the elbow and tugged. Next moment, they were both soaring weightlessly through darkness, until they landed squarely on their feet, back in Dumbledore's now twilit office.

"What happened to the girl in the cottage?" said Harry at once, as Dumbledore lit extra lamps with a flick of his wand. "Merope, or whatever her name was?"

"Oh, she survived," said Dumbledore, reseating himself behind his desk and indicating that Harry should sit down too. "Ogden Apparated back to the Ministry and returned with reinforcements within fifteen minutes. Morfin and his father attempted to fight, but both were overpowered, removed from the cottage, and subsequently convicted by the Wizengamot. Morfin, who already had a record of Muggle attacks, was sentenced to three years in Azkaban. Marvolo, who had injured several Ministry employees' in addition to Ogden, received six months."

"It so happens that we also had a glimpse of Voldemort's father. I wonder whether you noticed." Dumbledore asked as he summoned them both a bottle of butterbeer each.

"The Muggle Morfin attacked? The man on the horse?"

"Very good indeed," said Dumbledore, beaming. "Yes, that was Tom Riddle senior, the handsome Muggle who used to go riding past the Gaunt cottage and for whom Merope Gaunt cherished a secret, burning passion."

"And they ended up married?" Harry said in disbelief, unable to imagine two people less likely to fall in love.

"I think you are forgetting," said Dumbledore, "that Merope was a witch. I do not believe that her magical powers appeared to their best advantage when she was being terrorized by her father. Once Marvolo and Morfin were safely in Azkaban, once she was alone and free for the first time in her life, then, I am sure, she was able to give full rein to her abilities and to plot her escape from the desperate life she had led for eighteen years."

"Can you not think of any measure Merope could have taken to make Tom Riddle forget his Muggle companion, and fall in love with her instead?"

"The _Imperius_ Curse?" Harry suggested. "Or a love potion?"

"Very good. Personally, I am inclined to think that she used a love potion. I am sure it would have seemed more romantic to her, and I do not think it would have been very difficult, some hot day, when Riddle was riding alone, to persuade him to take a drink of water. In any case, within a few months of the scene we have just witnessed, the village of Little Hangleton enjoyed a tremendous scandal. You can imagine the gossip it caused when the squire's son ran off with the tramp's daughter, Merope."

"But the villagers' shock was nothing to Marvolo's. He returned from Azkaban, expecting to find his daughter dutifully awaiting his return with a hot meal ready on his table. Instead, he found a clear inch of dust and her note of farewell, explaining what she had done."

Dumbledore decided not to question Harry's knowledge of the _Imperius_ curse, from what Madam Pince had told him Harry had been in the library everyday researching and reading up all kinds of magic's. Now that he knew that Harry knew the Prophecy, he understood why.

"From all that I have been able to discover, he never mentioned her name or existence from that time forth. The shock of her desertion may have contributed to his early death — or perhaps he had simply never learned to feed himself. Azkaban had greatly weakened Marvolo, and he did not live to see Morfin return to the cottage."

"And Merope? She. ... She died, didn't she? Wasn't Voldemort brought up in an orphanage?" Dumbledore was surprised by Harry's knowledge about Voldemort, but then again if he was in the lad's shoes, he himself would want to know as much about his parent's killer as he could possibly find out.

"Yes, indeed," said Dumbledore. "We must do a certain amount of guessing here, although I do not think it is difficult to deduce what happened. You see, within a few months of their runaway marriage, Tom Riddle reappeared at the manor house in Little Hangleton without his wife. The rumour flew around the neighbourhood that he was talking of being 'hoodwinked' and 'taken in.' What he meant, I am sure, is that he had been under an enchantment that had now lifted, though I daresay he did not dare use those precise words for fear of being thought insane. When they heard what he was saying, however, the villagers guessed that Merope had lied to Tom Riddle, pretending that she was going to have his baby, and that he had married her for this reason."

"But she did have his baby."

"But not until a year after they were married. Tom Riddle left her while she was still pregnant."

"What went wrong?" asked Harry. "Why did the love potion stop working?"

"Again, this is guesswork," said Dumbledore, "but I believe that Merope, who was deeply in love with her husband, could not bear to continue enslaving him by magical means. I believe that she made the choice to stop giving him the potion. Perhaps, besotted as she was, she had convinced herself that he would by now have fallen in love with her in return. Perhaps she thought he would stay for the baby's sake. If so, she was wrong on both counts. He left her, never saw her again, and never troubled to discover what became of his son."

The sky outside was inky black and the lamps in Dumbledore's office seemed to glow more brightly than before.

"Now are you up to viewing more memories or would you rather continue this tomorrow?" Dumbledore asked, he was quite enjoying his time with Harry, the lad maybe cold but he was intelligent beyond his years.

"Let's carry on." Harry replied wanting to know more about the man he was destined to fight to the death, after all as the Headmaster said, understanding the enemy would go a long way in helping him in defeating his enemy.

"Very good." said Dumbledore, withdrawing a fresh bottle of silver memories from inside his robes and uncorking it with a wave of his wand.

"Merope was left alone in London, expecting the baby who would one day become Lord Voldemort." He said as he poured the memory into the stone basin.

"How do you know she was in London, sir?"

"Because of the evidence of one Caractacus Burke," said Dumbledore he swilled the contents of the Pensieve much as a gold prospector sifts for gold. Up out of the swirling, silvery mass rose a little old man revolving slowly in the Pensieve, silver as a ghost but much more solid, with a thatch of hair that completely covered his eyes.

"Yes, we acquired the necklace in curious circumstances. It was brought in by a young witch just before Christmas, oh, many years ago now. She said she needed the gold badly, well, that much was obvious. Covered in rags and pretty far along . . . Going to have a baby, see. She said the locket had been Slytherin's. Well, we hear that sort of story all the time, 'Oh, this was Merlin's, this was, his favourite teapot,' but when I looked at it, it had his mark all right, and a few simple spells were enough to tell me the truth. Of course, that made it near enough priceless. She didn't seem to have any idea how much it was worth. Happy to get ten Galleons for it. Best bargain we ever made!"

Dumbledore gave the Pensieve an extra-vigorous shake and Caractacus Burke descended back into the swirling mass of memory from whence he had come.

"He only gave her ten Galleons?" said Harry even he, a muggle-raised wizard knew that something belonging to one of the founders of Hogwarts would be worth 500 times that amount if not more.

"Caractacus Burke was not famed for his generosity," said Dumbledore. "So we know that, near the end of her pregnancy, Merope was alone in London and in desperate need of gold, desperate enough to sell her one and only valuable possession, the locket that was one of Marvolo's treasured family heirlooms."

"But she could do magic!" said Harry impatiently. "She could have got food and everything for herself by magic, couldn't she?"

"Ah," said Dumbledore, "perhaps she could. But it is my belief—I am guessing again, but I am sure I am right? That when her husband abandoned her, Merope stopped using magic. I do not think that she wanted to be a witch any longer. Of course, it is also possible that her unrequited love and the attendant despair sapped her of her powers; that can happen. In any case, as you are about to see, Merope refused to raise her wand even to save her own life."

"She wouldn't even stay alive for her son?"

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "Could you possibly be feeling sorry for Lord Voldemort?"

"No," said Harry quickly, "but she had a choice, didn't she, not like my mother."

"Your mother had a choice too," said Dumbledore gently. "Yes, Merope Riddle chose death in spite of a son who needed her, but do not judge her too harshly, Harry. She was greatly weakened by long suffering and she never had your mother's courage. And now, if you will stand ..."

"Where are we going?" Harry asked, as Dumbledore joined him at the front of the desk.

"This time," said Dumbledore, "we are going to enter my memory. I think you will find it both rich in detail and satisfyingly accurate. After you, Harry ..."

Harry bent over the Pensieve; his face broke the cool surface of the memory and then he was falling through darkness again. . . . Seconds later, his feet hit firm ground; he opened his eyes and found that he and Dumbledore were standing in a bustling, old-fashioned London street.

"There I am," said Dumbledore brightly, pointing ahead of them to a tall figure crossing the road in front of a horse-drawn milk cart.

This younger Albus Dumbledore's long hair and beard were auburn. Having reached their side of the street, he strode off along the pavement, drawing many curious glances due to the flamboyantly cut suit of plum velvet that he was wearing.

"Nice suit, sir," said Harry cheekily, something about the aged Headmaster told him he could relax and be more like himself instead of the cold, uncaring persona he presented the rest of the world.

Dumbledore merely chuckled as they followed his younger self a short distance, finally passing through a set of iron gates into a bare courtyard that fronted a rather grim, square building surrounded by high railings. He mounted the few steps leading to the front door and knocked once. After a moment or two, the door was opened by a scruffy girl wearing an apron.

"Good afternoon. I have an appointment with a Mrs. Cole, who, I believe, is the matron here?"

"Oh," said the bewildered-looking girl, taking in Dumbledore's eccentric appearance. "Um . . . just a mo.' . . . MRS. COLE!" she bellowed over her shoulder.

Harry heard a distant voice shouting something in response. The girl turned back to Dumbledore. "Come in, she's on 'er way."

Dumbledore stepped into a hallway tiled in black and white; the whole place was shabby but spotlessly clean. Harry and the older Dumbledore followed. Before the front door had closed behind them, a skinny, harassed-looking woman came scurrying toward them. She had a sharp-featured face that appeared more anxious than unkind, and she was talking over her shoulder to another aproned helper as she walked toward Dumbledore.

". . . and take the iodine upstairs to Martha, Billy Stubbs has been picking his scabs and Eric Whalley's oozing all over his sheets, chicken pox on top of everything else," she said to nobody in particular, and then her eyes fell upon Dumbledore and she stopped dead in her tracks, looking as astonished as if a giraffe had just crossed her threshold.

"Good afternoon," said Dumbledore, holding out his hand. Mrs. Cole simply gaped.

"My name is Albus Dumbledore. I sent you a letter requesting an appointment and you very kindly invited me here today."

Mrs. Cole blinked. Apparently deciding that Dumbledore was not a hallucination, she said feebly, "Oh yes. Well, well then, you'd better come into my room. Yes."

She led Dumbledore into a small room that seemed part sitting room, part office. It was as shabby as the hallway and the furniture was old and mismatched. She invited Dumbledore to sit on a rickety chair and seated herself behind a cluttered desk, eyeing him nervously.

"I am here, as I told you in my letter, to discuss Tom Riddle and arrangements for his future," said Dumbledore.

"Are you family?" asked Mrs. Cole.

"No, I am a teacher," said Dumbledore. "I have come to offer Tom a place at my school."

"What school's this, then?"

"It is called Hogwarts," said Dumbledore.

"And how come you're interested in Tom?"

"We believe he has qualities we are looking for."

"You mean he's won a scholarship? How can he have done? He's never been entered for one."

"Well, his name has been down for our school since birth."

"Who registered him? His parents?"

There was no doubt that Mrs. Cole was an inconveniently sharp woman. Apparently Dumbledore thought so too, for Harry now saw him slip his wand out of the pocket of his velvet suit, at the same time picking up a piece of perfectly blank paper from Mrs. Cole's desktop.

"Here," said Dumbledore, waving his wand once as he passed her the piece of paper, "I think this will make everything clear."

Mrs. Cole's eyes slid out of focus and back again as she gazed intently at the blank paper for a moment.

"That seems perfectly in order," she said placidly, handing it back. Then her eyes fell upon a bottle of gin and two glasses that had certainly not been present a few seconds before.

"Oh you were very good sir." Harry said to the older Dumbledore with a grin.

"I do try." Dumbledore grinned back as he watched his younger self.

"Er, May I offer you a glass of gin?" she said in an extra-refined voice.

"Thank you very much," said Dumbledore, beaming.

It soon became clear that Mrs. Cole was no novice when it came to gin drinking. Pouring both of them a generous measure, she drained her own glass in one gulp. Smacking her lips frankly, she smiled at Dumbledore for the first time, and he didn't hesitate to press his advantage.

"I was wondering whether you could tell me anything of Tom Riddle's history. I think he was born here in the orphanage?"

"That's right," said Mrs. Cole, helping herself to more gin. "I remember it clear as anything, because I'd just started here myself. New Year's Eve and bitter cold, snowing, you know. Nasty night. And this girl, not much older than I was myself at the time, came staggering up the front steps. Well, she wasn't the first. We took her in, and she had the baby within the hour. And she was dead in another hour."

Mrs. Cole nodded impressively and took another generous gulp of gin.

"Did she say anything before she died?" asked Dumbledore. "Anything about the boy's father, for instance?"

"Now, as it happens, she did," said Mrs. Cole, who seemed to be rather enjoying herself now, with the gin in her hand and an eager audience for her story. "I remember she said to me, 'I hope he looks like his papa,' and I won't lie, she was right to hope it, because she was no beauty."

Harry snorted at the understatement of the century.

"And then she told me he was to be named Tom, for his father, and Marvolo, for her father, yes, I know, funny name, isn't it? We wondered whether she came from a circus, and she said the boy's surname was to be Riddle. And she died soon after that without another word."

"Well, we named him just as she'd said, it seemed so important to the poor girl, but no Tom nor Marvolo nor any kind of Riddle ever came looking for him, nor any family at all, so he stayed in the orphanage and he's been here ever since."

Mrs. Cole helped herself, almost absentmindedly, to another healthy measure of gin. Two pink spots had appeared high on her cheekbones.

Then she said, "He's a funny boy."

"Yes," said Dumbledore. "I thought he might be."

"He was a funny baby too. He never ever cried, you know. And then, when he got a little older, he was . . . odd."

"Odd in what way?" asked Dumbledore gently.

"Well, he…" But Mrs. Cole pulled up short, and there was nothing blurry or vague about the inquisitorial glance she shot Dumbledore over her gin glass.

"He's definitely got a place at your school, you say?"

"Definitely," said Dumbledore.

"And nothing I say can change that?"

"Nothing," said Dumbledore.

"You'll be taking him away, whatever?"

"Whatever," repeated Dumbledore gravely?

She squinted at him as though deciding whether or not to trust him. Apparently she decided she could, because she said in a sudden rush, "He scares the other children."

"You mean he is a bully?" asked Dumbledore.

"I think he must be," said Mrs. Cole, frowning slightly, "but it's very hard to catch him at it. There have been incidents. . . . Nasty things ..."

Dumbledore did not press her, though Harry could tell that he was interested. She took yet another gulp of gin and her rosy cheeks grew rosier still.

"Billy Stubbs's rabbit . . . well, Tom said he didn't do it and I don't see how he could have done, but even so, it didn't hang itself from the rafters, did it?"

"I shouldn't think so, no," said Dumbledore quietly.

"Hung a rabbit from the rafters, even as a child he was a psychopath." Harry commented in disgust.

"My thoughts entirely." Dumbledore agreed.

"But I'm jiggered if I know how he got up there to do it. All I know is he and Billy had argued the day before." Mrs. Cole took another swig of gin, slopping a little over her chin this time

"In the summer we take them out, you know, once a year, to the countryside or to the seaside, well, Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop were never quite right afterwards, and all we ever got out of them was that they'd gone into a cave with Tom Riddle. He swore they'd just gone exploring, but something happened in there, I'm sure of it. And, well, there have been a lot of things, funny things. . . ."

She looked around at Dumbledore again, and though her cheeks were flushed, her gaze was steady. "I don't think many people will be sorry to see the back of him."

"You understand, I'm sure, that we will not be keeping him permanently?" said Dumbledore. "He will have to return here, at the very least, every summer."

"There was no hope for Tom Riddle from the start was there?" Harry asked as he looked at Dumbledore. "He was destined to become the Dark Lord no matter what."

"Looking back, I have to agree." Dumbledore replied sadly.

"Oh, well, that's better than a whack on the nose with a rusty poker," said Mrs. Cole with a slight hiccup. She got to her feet, and Harry was impressed to see that she was quite steady, even though two-thirds of the gin was now gone. "I suppose you'd like to see him?"

"Very much," said Dumbledore, rising too.

She led him out of her office and up the stone stairs, calling out instructions and admonitions to helpers and children as she passed. The orphans, Harry saw, were all wearing the same kind of greyish tunic. They looked reasonably well-cared for, but there was no denying that this was a grim place in which to grow up. Though if he was honest with himself, he would have much preferred to grow up here than at #4 Privet Drive.

"Here we are," said Mrs. Cole, as they turned off the second landing and stopped outside the first door in a long corridor. She knocked twice and entered.

"Tom? You've got a visitor. This is Mr. Dumberton? Sorry, Dunderbore. He's come to tell you, well, I'll let him do it."

Harry and the two Dumbledore's entered the room, and Mrs. Cole closed the door on them. It was a small bare room with nothing in it except an old wardrobe and an iron bedstead. A boy was sitting on top of the grey blankets, his legs stretched out in front of him, holding a book.

Harry was surprised by his and Tom's striking resemblance, but then again not so surprised seeing as they were cousins after all, he supposed he and Dudley might have looked alike if the other boy wasn't so fat in the face.

There was no trace of the Gaunt's in Tom Riddle's face. Merope had got her dying wish: He was his handsome father in miniature, tall for eleven years old, dark-haired, and pale. His eyes narrowed slightly as he took in Dumbledore's eccentric appearance. There was a moment's silence.

"How do you do, Tom?" said Dumbledore, walking forward and holding out his hand.

The boy hesitated, then took it, and they shook hands. Dumbledore drew up the hard wooden chair beside Riddle, so that the pair of them looked rather like a hospital patient and visitor.

"I am Professor Dumbledore."

"'Professor'?" repeated Riddle. He looked wary. "Is that like 'doctor'? What are you here for? Did she get you in to have a look at me?"

He was pointing at the door through which Mrs. Cole had just left.

"No, no," said Dumbledore, smiling.

"I don't believe you," said Riddle. "She wants me looked at, doesn't she? Tell the truth!"

He spoke the last three words with a ringing force that was almost shocking. It was a command, and it sounded as though he had given it many times before. His eyes had widened and he was glaring at Dumbledore, who made no response except to continue smiling pleasantly. After a few seconds Riddle stopped glaring, though he looked, if anything, warier still.

"Who are you?"

"I have told you. My name is Professor Dumbledore and I work at a school called Hogwarts. I have come to offer you a place at my school your new school, if you would like to come."

Riddle's reaction to this was most surprising. He leapt from the bed and backed away from Dumbledore, looking furious.

"You can't kid me! The asylum, that's where you're from, isn't it? 'Professor,' yes, of course well, I'm not going, see, that old cat's the one who should be in the asylum. I never did anything to little Amy Benson or Dennis Bishop, and you can ask them, they'll tell you!"

"I am not from the asylum," said Dumbledore patiently. "I am a teacher and, if you will sit down calmly, I shall tell you about Hogwarts. Of course, if you would rather not come to the school, nobody will force you."

"I'd like to see them try," sneered Riddle.

"Hogwarts," Dumbledore went on, as though he had not heard Riddle's last words, "is a school for people with special abilities."

"I'm not mad!"

"I know that you are not mad. Hogwarts is not a school for mad people. It is a school of magic."

There was silence. Riddle had frozen, his face expressionless, but his eyes were flickering back and forth between each of Dumbledore's, as though trying to catch one of them lying.

"Magic?" he repeated in a whisper.

"That's right," said Dumbledore.

"It's . . . its magic, what I can do?"

"What is it that you can do?"

"All sorts," breathed Riddle. A flush of excitement was rising up his neck into his hollow cheeks; he looked fevered. "I can make filings move without touching them. I can make animals do what I want them to do, without training them. I can make bad things happen to people who annoy me. I can make them hurt if I want to."

His legs were trembling. He stumbled forward and sat down on the bed again, staring at his hands, his head bowed as though in prayer.

"I knew I was different," he whispered to his own quivering fingers. "I knew I was special. Always, I knew there was something."

"Well, you were quite right," said Dumbledore, who was no longer smiling, but watching Riddle intently. "You are a wizard."

Riddle lifted his head. His face was transfigured: There was a wild happiness upon it, yet for some reason it did not make him better looking; on the contrary, his finely carved features seemed somehow rougher, his expression almost bestial.

"Are you a wizard too?"

"Yes, I am."

"Prove it," said Riddle at once, in the same commanding tone he had used when he had said, "Tell the truth."

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "If, as I take it, you are accepting your place at Hogwarts…"

"Of course I am!"

"Then you will address me as 'Professor' or 'sir.'"

Riddle's expression hardened for the most fleeting moment before he said, in an unrecognizably polite voice, "I'm sorry, sir. I meant please, Professor, could you show me?"

Harry was sure that Dumbledore was going to refuse, that he would tell Riddle there would be plenty of time for practical demonstrations at Hogwarts that they were currently in a building full of Muggles and must therefore be cautious. To his great surprise, however, Dumbledore drew his wand from an inside pocket of his suit jacket, pointed it at the shabby wardrobe in the corner, and gave the wand a casual flick.

The wardrobe burst into flames.

Riddle jumped to his feet; Harry could hardly blame him for howling in shock and rage; all his worldly possessions must be in there. But even as Riddle rounded on Dumbledore, the flames vanished, leaving the wardrobe completely undamaged.

Riddle stared from the wardrobe to Dumbledore; then, his expression greedy, he pointed at the wand. "Where can I get one of them?"

"All in good time," said Dumbledore. "I think there is something trying to get out of your wardrobe."

And sure enough, a faint rattling could be heard from inside it. For the first time, Riddle looked frightened.

"Open the door," said Dumbledore.

Riddle hesitated, then crossed the room and threw open the wardrobe door. On the topmost shelf, above a rail of threadbare clothes, a small cardboard box was shaking and rattling as though there were several frantic mice trapped inside it.

"Take it out," said Dumbledore.

Riddle took down the quaking box. He looked unnerved.

"Is there anything in that box that you ought not to have?" asked Dumbledore.

Riddle threw Dumbledore a long, clear, calculating look. "Yes, I suppose so, sir," he said finally, in an expressionless voice.

"Open it," said Dumbledore.

Riddle took off the lid and tipped the contents onto his bed without looking at them. Harry, who had expected something much more exciting, saw a mess of small, everyday objects: a yo-yo, a silver thimble, and a tarnished mouth organ among them. Once free of the box, they stopped quivering and lay quite still upon the thin blankets.

"You will return them to their owners with your apologies," said Dumbledore calmly, putting his wand back into his jacket. "I shall know whether it has been done. And be warned: Thieving is not tolerated at Hogwarts."

Riddle did not look remotely abashed; he was still staring coldly and appraisingly at Dumbledore. At last he said in a colourless voice, "Yes, sir."

"At Hogwarts," Dumbledore went on, "we teach you not only to use magic, but to control it. You have inadvertently, I am sure been using your powers in a way that is neither taught nor tolerated at our school. You are not the first, nor will you be the last, to allow your magic to run away with you. But you should know that Hogwarts can expel students, and the Ministry of Magic yes, there is a Ministry will punish lawbreakers still more severely. All new wizards must accept that, in entering our world, they abide by our laws."

"Yes, sir," said Riddle again.

It was impossible to tell what he was thinking; his face remained quite blank as he put the little cache of stolen objects back into the cardboard box. When he had finished, he turned to Dumbledore and said baldly, "I haven't got any money."

"That is easily remedied," said Dumbledore, drawing a leather money-pouch from his pocket. "There is a fund at Hogwarts for those who require assistance to buy books and robes. You might have to buy some of your spell books and so on second-hand, but."

"Where do you buy spell books?" interrupted Riddle, who had taken the heavy money bag without thanking Dumbledore, and was now examining a fat gold Galleon,

"In Diagon Alley," said Dumbledore. "I have your list of books and school equipment with me. I can help you find everything."

"You're coming with me?" asked Riddle, looking up.

"Certainly, if you."

I don't need you," said Riddle. "I'm used to doing things for myself, I go round London on my own all the time. How do you get to this Diagon Alley sir?" he added, catching Dumbledore's eye.

Harry thought that Dumbledore would insist upon accompanying Riddle, just like he knew McGonagall was going to insist she accompanied him to the Alley when she told him of been a wizard but for whatever reason changed her mind and let him go by himself.

But once again he was surprised. Dumbledore handed Riddle the envelope containing his list of equipment, and after telling Riddle exactly how to get to the Leaky Cauldron from the orphanage, he said, "You will be able to see it, although Muggles around you, non-magical people, that is will not. Ask for Tom the barman, easy enough to remember, as he shares your name."

Riddle gave an irritable twitch, as though trying to displace an irksome fly.

"You dislike the name 'Tom'?"

"There are a lot of Toms," muttered Riddle. Then, as though he could not suppress the question, as though it burst from him in spite of himself, he asked, "Was my father a wizard? He was called Tom Riddle too, they've told me."

"I'm afraid I don't know," said Dumbledore, his voice gentle.

"My mother can't have been magic, or she wouldn't have died," said Riddle, more to himself than Dumbledore. "It must've been him. So when I've got all my stuff when do I come to this Hogwarts?"

"All the details are on the second piece of parchment in your envelope," said Dumbledore. "You will leave from King's Cross Station on the first of September. There is a train ticket in there too."

Riddle nodded. Dumbledore got to his feet and held out his hand again. Taking it, Riddle said, "I can speak to snakes. I found out when we've been to the country on trips, they find me, they whisper to me. Is that normal for a wizard?"

Harry could tell that he had withheld mention of this strangest power until that moment, determined to impress. He knew because he himself had held off telling McGonagall the same, trying to impress her.

"It is unusual," said Dumbledore, after a moment's hesitation, "but not unheard of."

His tone was casual but his eyes moved curiously over Riddle's face. They stood for a moment, man and boy, staring at each other.

Then the handshake was broken; Dumbledore was at the door.

"Good-bye, Tom. I shall see you at Hogwarts."

"I think that will do," said the white-haired Dumbledore at Harry's side, and seconds later, they were soaring weightlessly through darkness once more, before landing squarely in the present-day office.

"Sit down," said Dumbledore, landing beside Harry.

Harry obeyed, his mind still full of what he had just seen.

"Did you know then?" asked Harry.

"Did I know that I had just met the most dangerous Dark wizard of all time?" said Dumbledore. "No, I had no idea that he was to grow up to be what he is. However, I was certainly intrigued by him. I returned to Hogwarts intending to keep an eye upon him, something I should have done in any case, given that he was alone and friendless, but which, already, I felt I ought to do for others' sake as much as his.

"His powers, as you heard, were surprisingly well-developed for such a young wizard and most interestingly and ominously of all, he had already discovered that he had some measure of control over them, and begun to use them consciously. And as you saw, they were not the random experiments typical of young wizards: He was already using magic against other people, to frighten, to punish, to control. The little stories of the strangled rabbit and the young boy and girl he lured into a cave were most suggestive. . . . 'I can make them hurt if I want to. . . .'"

"And he was a Parselmouth." interjected Harry.

"Yes, indeed; a rare ability, and one supposedly connected with the Dark Arts, although as we know, there are Parselmouths among the great and the good too. In fact, his ability to speak to serpents did not make me nearly as uneasy as his obvious instincts for cruelty, secrecy, and domination."

"Time is making fools of us." said Dumbledore, indicating the dark sky beyond the windows. "But before we part, I want to draw your attention to certain features of the scene we have just witnessed, for they have a great bearing on the matters we shall be discussing in future meetings."

"Firstly, I hope you noticed Riddle's reaction when I mentioned that another shared his first name, 'Tom'?"

Harry nodded.

"There he showed his contempt for anything that tied him to other people, anything that made him ordinary. Even then, he wished to be different, separate, and notorious. He shed his name, as you know, within a few short years of that conversation and created the mask of Lord Voldemort' behind which he has been hidden for so long.

"I trust that you also noticed that Tom Riddle was already highly self-sufficient, secretive, and, apparently, friendless? He did not want help or companionship on his trip to Diagon Alley. He preferred to operate alone. The adult Voldemort is the same. You will hear many of his Death Eaters claiming that they are in his confidence, that they alone are close to him, even understand him. They are deluded. Lord Voldemort has never had a friend, nor do I believe that he has ever wanted one.

As he sat there, Harry felt that he and Tom Riddle were very similar except for one crucial thing, he did want a friend, even many friends, his only problem that due to his upbringing, he found it hard to trust people.

"And lastly I hope you are not too sleepy to pay attention to this, Harry, the young Tom Riddle liked to collect trophies. You saw the box of stolen articles he had hidden in his room. These were taken from victims of his bullying behaviour, souvenirs, if you will, of particularly unpleasant bits of magic. Bear in mind this magpie-like tendency, for this, particularly, will be important later."

""And now, it really is time for bed."

Harry got up and stretched only now realising just how tired he was.

"Thank you sir." Harry said respectfully.

"For what Harry?" Dumbledore asked with a kind smile.

"For taking the time to help me understand Voldemort and to hopefully one day defeat him once and for all." Harry truly was grateful that someone so skilled and powerful was taking the time out of their lives to give him, Harry Potter a fighting chance against Lord Voldemort.

"You are very welcome my boy, very welcome." Dumbledore beamed. After everything they had seen and talked about tonight, he was surer than ever that Harry truly was mature enough to shoulder the burden fate had placed upon his young shoulders.

"Goodnight sir." Harry smiled as he walked towards the door.

"Goodnight Harry." Dumbledore smiled back.

"Oh and watch out for Quirrell, he is working for Voldemort and is trying to steal the philosopher's stone to bring him back too full power." Harry said as he reached the door and turned back to look at the Headmaster.

"Yes Harry, I am aware, however, as I cannot prove it, I cannot fire him." Dumbledore explained hoping Harry would understand. "Is this why you came to see me in the first place."

"Yes sir, but we seemed to be come side tracked somewhat." Harry grinned as he indicated the stone basin still sat on the Headmaster's desk.

"Yes we did indeed."

"Anyway, I understand why you can't fire him, we'll just have to keep a closer eye on him from now on." Harry said surprisingly maturely for and eleven year old boy who Quirrell had already tried to kill once.

"Indeed we will." Dumbledore tipped his head at Harry in respect for his show of maturity. "Anyway we shall visit more of Tom's past tomorrow night at the same time if you wish."

"Yes sir, see you tomorrow night, goodnight sir." Harry tipped his head back in respect before leaving the office to go back to the Slytherin common room and to get some sleep, now that he thought about it he was very tired, he couldn't wait to get into his warm, comfy bed.

End of Chapter

_AN: WOW that is the longest chapter I have ever written for any story or anything else really. What did you think? And yes I know that it contained a lot of stuff from the sixth book but I thought it was relevant and I also said at the beginning that there would be content from the sixth book. _


	9. The History of Lord Voldemort Part II

_AN: WOW 37,805 views, thank you to everyone who has either left a review or just plain read my story, here's the next chapter for you all to enjoy._

**The History of Lord Voldemort part II**

Christmas was coming. The next morning, Hogwarts woke to find itself covered in several feet of snow. The lake froze solid and the Weasley twins were punished for bewitching several snowballs so that they followed Quirrell around, bouncing off the back of his turban. The few owls that managed to battle their way through the stormy sky to deliver mail had to be nursed back to health by Hagrid before they could fly off again.

No one could wait for the holidays to start. While the Slytherin common room and the Great Hall had roaring fires, the drafty corridors had become icy and a bitter wind rattled the windows in the classrooms. Worst of all would be Professor Snape's classes down in the dungeons, as the Slytherin's knew, the dungeons were freezing cold.

At the moment though, Harry sat on a rock overlooking the black lake, Christmas and cold corridors were the last things on his mind. He was thinking about Lord Voldemort and everything he had learned about him the night before. Unbidden a memory floated to the front of his mind's eye.

_"All the details are on the second piece of parchment in your envelope," said Dumbledore. "You will leave from King's Cross Station on the first of September. There is a train ticket in there too." _

_Riddle nodded. Dumbledore got to his feet and held out his hand again. Taking it, Riddle said, "I can speak to snakes. I found out when we've been to the country on trips, they find me, they whisper to me. Is that normal for a wizard?"_

"_Am I destined to be a psychopathic murder_?" Harry asked himself as another memory floated into his mind, this time his own.

_Harry nodded. McGonagall got to her feet and held out her hand to Harry, who after a moment shook it firmly. "I can talk to snakes, I found out last year when weeding the garden, they find me and talk to me, is that normal for a wizard?" _

As he sat there thinking about his and Tom's similarities, how they were both orphans, both Parselmouths, how they were both magically powerful, how they were both tall and handsome for their ages, he couldn't help but wonder if he. Harry was destined to be a Dark Lord, ripping apart families all because they were half-blood or Muggle-born.

But as he sat there, he remembered one crucial thing that separated him and Tom Riddle from each other, he, Harry James Potter, wanted to be remembered as the greatest wizard who ever lived, but he wanted to be remembered like that because of new spells and potions he had invented, for holding the most prestigious offices at the Ministry of Magic, Hit-Wizard, Auror, Head-Auror, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Ambassador for Great Britain to the rest of the Wizarding world, Minister for Magic and finally Headmaster of Hogwarts.

But Tom Riddle on the other hand, had and still wanted to be known as the supreme ruler of England and more than likely the rest of the world. Tom wanted to cause death and destruction, he wanted to be feared but he Harry wanted to be loved and adored by all.

He knew it would take a hell of a lot of hard work and dedication but he knew that if he put his mind to it he could achieve anything. And the first stepping stone to greatness began right here at Hogwarts were he could learn magic and also train to kill the Dark Lord, the second stone would be Lord Voldemort, dead at his feet and the rest would follow.

"Yes, the rest would follow with the death of Voldemort by my hands." Harry smiled to himself as he got up off the rock and stretched before he turned around and headed back to the castle for lunch.

As he reached the great hall, he spotted Blaise and Theo eating lunch with Daphne and Tracy and he headed over to join them.

"Ah Harry there you are, where have you been man." Theo asked him as he sat down next to Tracy opposite Theo and Blaise.

"Just needed to be on my own and think." Harry answered as he pulled a ham salad toward him and dug in.

"Does it involve the Philosopher's Stone?" Tracy asked him quietly causing Harry's head to whip around and look at her in shock.

"How do you know about that?" Harry demanded coldly, he couldn't believe that Tracy Davis knew about Quirrell and the Stone.

"After your pacing around the common room and you leaving to go wherever you went, I noticed that you had left your book open, so I went to close it and get Theo or Blaise to put it in your room, I noticed the page that had gotten you pacing was about Nicolas Flamel and the Stone." Tracy explained calmly and patiently.

"I had wondered how it had gotten onto my bed, thanks for that and sorry for snapping at you." Harry replied as he offered a sheepish grin to Tracy who smiled back.

"No harm done, just try to ask before lashing out next time." She advised with a smile as she downed her glass of pumpkin juice.

"Sure thing." Nodded Harry.

"So what's this about the Philosopher's Stone?" Daphne asked quietly so as not to be overheard, obviously Harry didn't want to people knowing otherwise he wouldn't have reacted the way he did with Tracy.

"I can't tell you." Harry said with a shake of his head.

"Why not." Blaise asked with a small frown.

"Because technically, I shouldn't even know about it." Harry replied quietly.

"But everyone who reads knows about it." Said Theo getting nods of agreement from the other three.

"Yes, but they don't know it's been hidden here at Hogwarts." Harry hissed at him.

"It's hidden here, but why?" Daphne asked him in shock.

"I told you, I can't tell you."

"Why not, don't you trust us?" Tracy asked feeling a little hurt at the thought.

"No I don't, I hardly know you." Harry answered bluntly as he finished his salad and poured himself a drink.

"What if there was a way for us to prove our trust and loyalty to you?" Daphne asked him seriously.

"You mean like an oath or something." Harry asked, he had only the vaguest idea about oaths having come across the term in his research into magic and the war against Voldemort.

"I was thinking along the lines of An Unbreakable Vow." Daphne said seriously causing Blaise, Theo and Tracy to look at her as though she had grown a second head.

"Isn't that the one where if you break it you die?" Harry asked as he thought back to the chapter he had read on Ministry laws at the Leaky Cauldron when he was looking up underage magic laws, there had been a whole chapter about that vow.

"That's the one." Daphne nodded.

"Are you nuts, swear an unbreakable vow just to find out why the Philosopher's Stone is hidden at Hogwarts." Theo asked as though Daphne was mental for even suggesting it.

"There's more to this than the Stone and I want to know what it is." Daphne replied with determination.

"But an Unbreakable Vow." Theo said ludicrously.

"What's up Theo, are the rumours true, was your father a Death Eater, is that why you won't swear the Vow." Tracy asked him tauntingly. As she asked this she noticed that Harry was now glaring daggers at Theo, clearly he had not heard that rumour.

"N-Noo, of course he wasn't." Stuttered Theo, he was scared out of his mind from the glare that Harry was giving him right then.

"DON'T. LIE. TO. ME." Harry hissed managing to shout in a whisper as he glared daggers at Theo. "I can see the truth in your eyes, your mouth might lie but your eyes never lie."

"Ok, come with me and I will explain it as best I can." Theo said as he stood from the bench.

"You best have a good reason for not telling me otherwise you will die." Harry hissed as he stood up followed by Blaise, Daphne and Tracy. "Now walk." He spat as he pointed towards the exit.

The five of them walked out of the great hall and into an unused classroom just off of the great hall.

"Explain." Harry demanded once the door was closed.

"During the war my father was a Death Eater, he agreed with everything the Dark Lord was saying but when I was growing up, I found that I didn't agree, just because someone is from a Muggle family, didn't mean they had to be killed or forced to be slaves, I thought to myself that we are all humans and every decent humans life is precious, whether they are Muggle-born, Pure-Blood or even just a Muggle." Theo explained in a rush hoping Harry wasn't going to curse him then and there where he stood.

"So you're not spying on me for your father?" Harry asked slowly as he stared into Theo's eyes to detect any deceit from the other boy.

"No Harry, my father doesn't even know we're friends, I swear." Theo answered pleadingly trying to portray the truth in his words.

"You swear." Whispered Harry, as he looked in Theo's eyes he knew the boy to be telling the truth but he wanted them all to swear the vow to him.

"Yes, I swear." Theo replied in a thick voice, he had the horrible feeling that Harry did not believe him and was about to strike him down where he stood.

"Then swear the unbreakable vow." Harry whispered softly.

"But…"

"I cannot trust you not to stab me in the back now that I know that your father was/is a Death Eater, unless you swear that vow." Harry explained softly getting nods from the other three.

"Very well, I will swear the vow." Theo decided after a few moments thought, having the protection of The-Boy-Who-Lived would be worth it in the end.

"I will be the bonder for you all to swear the vow to Harry until it's my turn, then Tracy can be our binder." Daphne spoke up with enthusiasm, she really wanted to know why the famous Stone was been hidden at Hogwarts.

"Very well, Theo first." Harry said as he stretched out his hand to the other boy. Theo took his arm grasping Harry's wrist and Harry grabbing Theo's, Harry then turned their clasped arms and turned their arms until Harry's arm was above Theo's as Theo was swearing the vow to him, had Harry been swearing the vow to Theo, then Harry's arm would be underneath Theo's.

Daphne stood next to the two boys, her wand now resting on Harry's arm ready to seal the vow. "_Votum_." She said the incantation to begin the unbreakable vow, three ropes of magical fire wrapped around Harry and Theo's clasped hands and arms.

"Will you, Theodore Nott, Swear to keep all of my secrets?" Harry asked in a whisper.

"I will." Replied Theo also in a whisper.

"Will you, Theodore Nott, stand by me in battle, whether that be in the court room or on a battle field?"

"I will."

"And will you, Theodore Nott, swear to be loyal to me above all others, whether that be a teacher, a ministry worker or you father and the Dark Lord Voldemort." Harry asked the most important and vital question last and in a whisper.

"I will." Theo agreed after a moment's hesitation.

"_Signa Etiam Votum_." Daphne spoke quietly and the ropes of fire sank into Harry and Theo's arms, sealing the vow.

"Good, now I can trust you not to sell me out to your father." Harry said as he released Theo's arm.

Ten minutes later and Blaise, Tracy and Daphne had sworn the unbreakable vow to Harry, Blaise was the binder for Daphne swearing the Vow.

"Now that we have all sworn the Vow and you know there is no possible way for us to tell anybody with dying, will you tell us what is going on with the Stone?" Daphne asked after she had sworn the Vow.

"Quirrell is trying to steal the Stone for his master." Harry replied as he went to the window and looked out onto the grounds, from what he could see, Dean Thomas was trying to teach Ron Weasley Football.

"But why is the Stone here in the first place, shouldn't Flamel have it with him." Blaise asked with a slight confusion on his face as he looked at Harry.

"It's here as bait, as far as I can tell, Dumbledore is using the Stone to try and see if _HE_ is still alive or not." Harry replied as he continued to watch the Gryffindor boys.

"Who's _HE_?" Tracy asked at the same time Daphne asked.

"Whose Quirrell's Master."

Harry turned from the window and looked Theodore square in the eyes as he answered.

"Lord Voldemort." The other three students all flinched at the Dark Lord's name but not Theo, he went pale and had to sit down.

"He's still alive." Theo whispered in shock. "Father always said that the Dark Lord would one day rise again."

"And now he's trying too." Harry said as the other three also took seats as they tried to process the fact that the terror that once plagued the Wizarding world was trying to come back and restart his war against the world.

"What will the stone do if he gets it?" Blaise asked quietly.

"It will rejuvenate him and bring him back to full power." Harry replied softly as he looked at them, all four had their eyes closed as they thought about the horror stories they had been told growing up.

"And what's your role in all of this?" Daphne asked after a few minutes composing herself, she opened her eyes and looked at Harry who had turned to look back out the window.

"What makes you think I have any role in this?" Harry asked as he watched the Gryffindor boys who had given up playing football and were now having a huge snowball fight with the Ravenclaw's and Hufflepuff's.

"Because you know so much that we don't." Daphne answered.

"Because you went to see the headmaster last night and were gone for hours." Said Tracy.

"And because you're the Boy-Who-Lived." Blaise answered as though that was enough for Harry to have any role in anything to do with Voldemort.

"And because the Dark Lord will want revenge and to finish the job he started ten years ago." Theo said quietly.

I suppose you're all right in a way." Harry said as he turned back to look at them all. "There is a Prophecy and it says that, _either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives_." Harry quoted some of the Prophecy in a voice hardly above a whisper but they all heard it as though he had shouted.

"How do you know that the Prophecy is about you?" Blaise asked after mulling it over in his head for a few minutes.

"Because I was born at the end of the seventh month and because he marked me as his equal." Harry answered as he lifted up his fringe to show them his lightning bolt scar.

"What are you going to do, I very much doubt that you can defeat him in a duel." Tracy asked as she looked at him in worry.

"No not right now I can't, but with Dumbledore training me I just might be able to do it." Harry replied with determination in his voice.

"What has he taught you so far?" Blaise asked curiously.

"So far he has begun showing me his history to better understand him, after that he will be training me in magic." Harry replied as he perched himself on the edge of the old teachers desk.

"Makes sense, understand your enemy to better defeat him." Daphne nodded.

"Exactly." Harry nodded back glad they understood the headmasters reasoning.

"Harry, you do realise that my father will expect me to join the Dark Lord once he returns to power." Theo asked fearful at the prospect of being in the Dark Lord's service.

"Yes I know and I've been thinking about something ever since you admitted your father is a Death Eater and you swore your loyalty to me." Harry replied softly.

"What have you been think?"

"I was thinking that with the right training, then you could become my spy." He replied not really thinking that Theo would go for it.

"You want me to join the Dark Lord and spy on him for you." Theo asked just to be certain that he understood Harry correctly.

"Yes."

"Will you train me in magic and promise to keep me alive to the best of your ability?" Theo asked seriously, if it were anybody else asking he would not even consider it but there was something about Harry Potter that made him believe anything was possible, including spying on the most feared and powerful Dark Lord in British history.

"I will."

"Then yes, I will be your spy."

"Good, no time like the present." Harry said as he stood up and removed his wand motioning for them all to do so. They all quickly pushed the tables and chairs to the sides of the room.

"The first spell I shall teach you is the Disarming Charm." Harry said as he stood opposite the four. "Observe."

"_Expelliarmus_." Fast as lightning Daphne's wand was ripped from her hand and Harry caught it expertly out of the air surprising them all.

"That's useful." Daphne commented dryly as she accepted her wand back.

"Now repeat after me Ex-pelli-ar-mus." The four students repeated the incantation twenty times before Harry was satisfied. He then showed them the wand movement and had them practice that twenty times as well.

"Now pair up and one fire the spell before letting the other try the spell." Harry instructed. Soon the classroom was filled with four voices shouting the Disarming charm.

For over two hours Harry had them practising the spell on each over until he was satisfied that they had the spell mastered.

"Now I will show you the Shield Charm." Harry said as he called a halt to their casting.

"_Protego_." a bright blue transparent shield appeared in front of Harry." One of you cast the Disarming charm at me.

"_Expelliarmus." _Daphnecast the charm at Harry and the bright red light bounced off of the blue shield.

"That's cool." Blaise grinned.

For another hour Harry had them practice the shield charm before having one use the shield charm whilst another cast the disarming charm at the shield for an hour.

"Right those two spells are some of the most important spells any good dueller has in their arsenal, so be sure to practice them both at least once a night before going to bed." Harry said as he put his wand back into his wand holster.

"You will also want to owl-order a wand holster from Ollivander's or go to his shop and buy one in person over the Christmas holiday, either way you need to have one before the term starts in the New Year."

"No problem Harry." Tracy said getting nods from the other three.

"Observe the other students and let me know who you think would join us and train with us in preparation of Voldemort's eventual return."

"Are we including the other three houses or just our own house?" Daphne asked.

"All the houses, target those who lost family in the last war, they will be the most loyal and likely to join."

"Very well and what about Quirrell?" Theo asked as they headed to the door ready for dinner.

"Keep an eye on him, don't be obvious about it, write down what you learn, anything at all and we will compare notes next Saturday before I give them to the Headmaster."

"Good thinking." Blaise nodded with a small smile.

"DO NOT under any circumstance try to stop, fight or capture Quirrell in anyway, he may be a stuttering fool but I'd bet my vault that that is just an act, he is more than likely to be very dangerous." Harry said in a no nonsense tone of voice as they left the classroom and headed to the great hall.

Two hours later, Harry left the four to their homework as he exited the common room and made his way to the Headmaster's office ready for another history lesson.

The lamps in Dumbledore's office were lit, the portraits of previous headmasters were snoring gently in their frames, and the Pensive was ready upon the desk once more. Dumbledore's hands lay on either side of it.

"Ah Harry, come in, take a seat, how's your day been." Dumbledore smiled brightly as he motioned for Harry to take a seat in front of his desk.

"Very productive sir, and yours?" Harry asked as he took a seat.

"Also very productive, I managed to persuade an old college to part with a memory of Tom Riddle, it has taken me the better part of five years to get this memory, but before I show you this I want to show you another."

"Ok." Harry replied wondering why someone who used to work with/for Dumbledore would refuse to give up a memory for five years.

"So," said Dumbledore, in a ringing voice, "we meet this evening to continue the tale of Tom Riddle, whom we left last lesson poised on the threshold of his years at Hogwarts. You will remember how excited he was to hear that he was a wizard, that he refused my company on a trip to Diagon Alley, and that I, in turn, warned him against continued thievery when he arrived at school."

"Well, the start of the school year arrived and with it came Tom Riddle, a quiet boy in his second-hand robes, who lined up with the other first years to be sorted. He was placed in Slytherin House almost the moment that the Sorting Hat touched his head," continued Dumbledore, waving his hand toward the shelf over his head where the Sorting Hat sat, ancient and unmoving. "How soon Riddle learned that the famous founder of the House could talk to snakes, I do not know — perhaps that very evening. The knowledge can only have excited him and increased his sense of self-importance."

"However, if he was frightening or impressing fellow Slytherin's with displays of Parseltongue in their common room, no hint of it reached the staff. He showed no sign of outward arrogance or aggression at all. As an unusually talented and very good-looking orphan, he naturally drew attention and sympathy from the staff almost from the moment of his arrival. He seemed police, quiet, and thirsty for knowledge. Nearly all were most favourably impressed by him."

"Didn't you tell them, sir, what he'd been like when you met him at the orphanage?" asked Harry.

"No, I did not. Though he had shown no hint of remorse, it was possible that he felt sorry for how he had behaved before and was resolved to turn over a fresh leaf. I chose to give him that chance."

"But you didn't really trust him, sir, did you?"

"Let us say that I did not take it for granted that he was trustworthy," said Dumbledore. "I had, as I have already indicated, resolved to keep a close eye upon him, and so I did. I cannot pretend that I gleaned a great deal from my observations at first. He was very guarded with me; he felt, I am sure, that in the thrill of discovering his true identity he had told me a little too much. He was careful never to reveal as much again, but he could not take back what he had let slip in his excitement, nor what Mrs. Cole had confided in me. However, he had the sense never to try and charm me as he charmed so many of my colleagues."

"As he moved up the school, he gathered about him a group of dedicated friends; I call them that, for want of a better term, although as I have already indicated, Riddle undoubtedly felt no affection for any of them. This group had a kind of dark glamour within the castle. They were a motley collection; a mixture of the weak seeking protection, the ambitious seeking some shared glory, and the thuggish gravitating toward a leader who could show them more refined forms of cruelty. In other words, they were the forerunners of the Death Eaters, and indeed some of them became the first Death Eaters after leaving Hogwarts.

"Rigidly controlled by Riddle, they were never detected in open wrongdoing, although their seven years at Hogwarts were marked by a number of nasty incidents to which they were never satisfactorily linked, the most serious of which was, of course, the opening of the Chamber of Secrets, which resulted in the death of a girl."

"I have not been able to find many memories of Riddle at Hogwarts," said Dumbledore, placing his hand on the Pensive. "Few who knew him then are prepared to talk about him; they are too terrified. What I know, I found out after he had left Hogwarts, after much painstaking effort, after tracing those few who could be tricked into speaking, after searching old records and questioning Muggle and wizard witnesses alike."

"Those whom I could persuade to talk told me that Riddle was obsessed with his parentage. This is understandable, of course; he had grown up in an orphanage and naturally wished to know how he came to be there. It seems that he searched in vain for some trace of Tom Riddle senior on the shields in the trophy room, on the lists of prefects in the old school records, even in the books of Wizarding history. Finally he was forced to accept that his father had never set foot in Hogwarts. I believe that it was then that he dropped the name forever, assumed the identity of Lord Voldemort, and began his investigations into his previously despised mother's family — the woman whom, you will remember, he had thought could not be a witch if she had succumbed to the shameful human weakness of death."

"All he had to go upon was the single name 'Marvolo,' which he knew from those who ran the orphanage had been his mother's father's name. Finally, after painstaking research, through old books of Wizarding families, he discovered the existence of Slytherin's surviving line. In the summer of his sixteenth year, he left the orphanage to which he returned annually and set off to find his Gaunt relatives. And now, Harry, if you will stand ..."

Dumbledore rose, and Harry saw that he was again holding a. small crystal bottle filled with swirling, pearly memory.

"I was very lucky to collect this," he said, as he poured the gleaming mass into the Pensive. "As you will understand when we have experienced it. Shall we?"

Harry stepped up to the stone basin and bowed obediently until his face sank through the surface of the memory; he felt the familiar sensation of falling through nothingness and then landed upon a dirty stone floor in almost total darkness.

It took him several seconds to recognize the place, by which time Dumbledore had landed beside him. The Gaunts' house was now more indescribably filthy than anywhere Harry had ever seen. The ceiling was thick with cobwebs, the floor coated in grime; mouldy and rotting food lay upon the table amidst a mass of crusted pots. The only light came from a single guttering candle placed at the feet of a man with hair and beard so overgrown Harry could see neither eyes nor mouth. He was slumped in an armchair by the fire, and Harry wondered for a moment whether he was dead.

But then there came a loud knock on the door and the man jerked awake, raising a wand in his right hand and a short knife in his left.

The door creaked open. There on the threshold, holding an old-fashioned lamp, stood a boy Harry recognized at once: tall, pale, dark-haired, and handsome — the teenage Voldemort.

Voldemort's eyes moved slowly around the hovel and then found the man in the armchair. For a few seconds they looked at each other, then the man staggered upright, the many empty bottles at his feet clattering and tinkling across the floor.

"YOU!" he bellowed. "YOU!"

And he hurtled drunkenly at Riddle, wand and knife held aloft.

"Stop."

Riddle spoke in Parseltongue. The man skidded into the table, sending mouldy pots crashing to the floor. He stared at Riddle. There was a long silence while they contemplated each other. The man broke it.

"Yes, I speak it," said Riddle. He moved forward into the room, allowing the door to swing shut behind him. Harry could not help but feel a resentful admiration for Voldemort's complete lack of fear. His race merely expressed disgust and, perhaps, disappointment.

"Where is Marvolo?" he asked.

"Dead," said the other. "Died years ago, didn't he?"

Riddle frowned.

"Who are you, then?"

"I'm Morfin, ain't I?"

"Marvolo's son?"

"'Course I am, then..."

Morfin pushed the hair out of his dirty face, the better to see Riddle, and Harry saw that he wore Marvolo's black-stoned ring on his right hand.

"I thought you was that Muggle," whispered Morfin. "You look mighty like that Muggle."

"What Muggle?" said Riddle sharply?

"That Muggle what my sister took a fancy to, that Muggle what lives in the big house over the way," said Morfin, and he spat unexpectedly upon the floor between them. "You look right like him. Riddle. But he's older now, in 'e? He's older'n you, now I think on it. ..."

Morfin looked slightly dazed and swayed a little, still clutching the edge of the table for support. "He come back, see," he added stupidly.

Voldemort was gazing at Morfin as though appraising his possibilities. Now he moved a little closer and said, "Riddle came back?"

"Ar, he left her, and serve her right, marrying filth!" said Morfin, spitting on the floor again. "Robbed us, mind, before she ran off. Where's the locket, eh, where's Slytherin's locket?"

Voldemort did not answer. Morfin was working himself into a rage again; he brandished his knife and shouted, "Dishonoured us, she did, that little slut! And whore you, coming here and asking questions about all that? It's over, innit. It's over. ..."

He looked away, staggering slightly, and Voldemort moved forward. As he did so, an unnatural darkness fell, extinguishing Voldemort's lamp and Morfin's candle, extinguishing everything. . . . Dumbledore's fingers closed tightly around Harry's arm and they were soaring back into the present again. The soft golden light in Dumbledore's office seemed to dazzle Harry's eyes after that impenetrable darkness.

"Is that all?" said Harry at once. "Why did it go dark, what happened?"

"Because Morfin could not remember anything from that point onward," said Dumbledore, gesturing Harry back into his seat. "When he awoke next morning, he was lying on the floor, quite alone. Marvolo's ring had gone."

"Meanwhile, in the village of Little Hangleton, a maid was running along the High Street, screaming that there were three bodies lying in the drawing room of the big house: Tom Riddle Senior and his mother and father.

"The Muggle authorities were perplexed. As far as I am aware, they do not know to this day how the Riddles died, for the Avada Kedavra curse does not usually leave any sign of damage. . . . The exception sits before me," Dumbledore added, with a nod to Harry's scar. "The Ministry, on the other hand, knew at once that this was a wizard's murder. They also knew that a convicted Muggle-hater lived across the valley from the Riddle house, a Muggle-hater who had already been imprisoned once for attacking one of the murdered people.

"So the Ministry called upon Morfin. They did not need to question him, to use Veritaserum or Legilimency. He admitted to the murder on the spot, giving details only the murderer could know. He was proud, he said, to have killed the Muggles, had been awaiting his chance all these years. He handed over his wand, which was proved at once to have been used to kill the Riddles. And he permitted himself to be led off to Azkaban without a fight.

All that disturbed him was the fact that his father's ring had disappeared. 'He'll kill me for losing it,' he told his captors over and over again. 'He'll kill me for losing his ring.' And that, apparently, was all he ever said again. He lived out the remainder of his life in Azkaban, lamenting the loss of Marvolo's last heirloom, and is buried beside the prison, alongside the other poor souls who have expired within its walls."

"So Voldemort stole Morfin's wand and used it?" said Harry, sitting up straight.

"That's right," said Dumbledore. "We have no memories to show us this, but I think we can be fairly sure what happened. Voldemort Stupefied his uncle, took his wand, and proceeded across the valley to 'the big house over the way.' There he murdered the Muggle man who had abandoned his witch mother, and, for good measure, his Muggle grandparents, thus obliterating the last of the unworthy Riddle line and revenging himself upon the father who never wanted him. Then he returned to the Gaunt hovel, performed the complex bit of magic that would implant a false memory in his uncle's mind, laid Morfin's wand beside its unconscious owner, pocketed the ancient ring he wore, and departed."

"And Morfin never realized he hadn't done it?"

"Never," said Dumbledore. "He gave, as I say, a full and boastful confession."

"But he had this real memory in him all the time!"

"Yes, but it took a great deal of skilled Legilimency to coax it out of him," said Dumbledore, "and why should anybody delve further into Morfin's mind when he had already confessed to the crime? However, I was able to secure a visit to Morfin in the last weeks of his life, by which time I was attempting to discover as much as I could about Voldemort's past. I extracted this memory with difficulty. When I saw what it contained, I attempted to use it to secure Morfin's release from Azkaban. Before the Ministry reached their decision, however, Morfin had died."

"But how come the Ministry didn't realize that Voldemort had done all that to Morfin?" Harry asked angrily, he was not angry on behalf of Morfin but the fact that the Ministry had had a chance to stop Voldemort before he became so powerful and skilled, all those lives they had a chance to save, and his parents could have lived had the ministry just done a more thorough investigation. "He was underage at the time, wasn't he? I thought they could detect underage magic!"

"You are quite right — they can detect magic, but not the perpetrator:"

"So if you're underage and you do magic inside an adult witch or wizard's house, the Ministry won't know?" Here Harry played dumb so as to not let the Headmaster know that he had practised magic over the summer and would do so again in the coming summers.

"They will certainly be unable to tell who performed the magic," said Dumbledore, smiling slightly at the look of great indignation on Harrys face. "They rely on witch and wizard parents to enforce their offspring's obedience while within their walls."

"Well, that's rubbish," snapped Harry. "Look what happened here, look what happened to Morfin!"

"I agree," said Dumbledore. "Whatever Morfin was, he did not deserve to die as he did, blamed for murders he had not committed. But it is getting late, and I want you to see this other memory before we part. ..."

Dumbledore took from an inside pocket another crystal phial and Harry fell silent at once, remembering that Dumbledore had said it was the most important one he had collected.

"Once more into the Pensive, then . . ."

And Harry fell again through the silver surface, landing this time right in front of a man with thick, shiny, straw-coloured hair with a shiny Galleon-sized bald patch on his crown. His massive moustache, was gingery-blond. He was quite rotund the golden buttons on his richly embroidered waistcoat were taking a fair amount of strain. His little feet resting upon a velvet pouffe, he was sitting well back in a comfortable winged armchair, one hand grasping a small glass of wine, the other searching through a box of crystalized pineapple.

Harry looked around as Dumbledore appeared beside him and saw that they were standing in the man's office.

"That is Professor Horace Slughorn, the former Potions Master before Professor Snape." Dumbledore said to Harry as he too looked around the office.

Half a dozen boys were sitting around Slughorn, all on harder or lower seats than his, and all in their mid-teens. Harry recognized Voldemort at once. His was the most handsome face and he looked the most relaxed of all the boys. His right hand lay negligently upon the arm of his chair; with a jolt, Harry saw that he was wearing Marvolo's gold-and-black ring; he had already killed his father.

"Sir, is it true that Professor Merrythought is retiring?" he asked.

"Tom, Tom, if I knew I couldn't tell you," said Slughorn, wagging a reproving, sugar-covered finger at Riddle, though ruining the effect slightly by winking. "I must say, I'd like to know where you get your information, boy, more knowledgeable than half the staff, you are."

Riddle smiled; the other boys laughed and cast him admiring looks.

"What with your uncanny ability to know things you shouldn't, and your careful flattery of the people who matter — thank you for the pineapple, by the way, you're quite right, it is my favourite —" Several of the boys tittered again. "— I confidently expect you to rise to Minister of Magic within twenty years. Fifteen, if you keep sending me pineapple, I have excellent contacts at the Ministry."

Tom Riddle merely smiled as the others laughed again. Harry noticed that he was by no means the eldest of the group of boys, but that they all seemed to look to him as their leader.

"I don't know that politics would suit me, sir," he said when the laughter had died away. "I don't have the right kind of background, for one thing."

A couple of the boys around him smirked at each other. Harry was sure they were enjoying a private joke, undoubtedly about what they knew, or suspected, regarding their gang leader's famous ancestor.

"Nonsense," said Slughorn briskly, "couldn't be plainer you come from decent Wizarding stock, abilities like yours. No, you'll go far, Tom, I've never been wrong about a student yet."

The small golden clock standing upon Slughorn's desk chimed eleven o'clock behind him and he looked around.

"Good gracious, is it that time already? You'd better get going boys, or we'll all be in trouble. Lestrange, I want your essay by in tomorrow or its detention. Same goes for you, Avery."

One by one, the boys filed out of the room. Slughorn heaved himself out of his armchair and carried his empty glass over to his desk. A movement behind him made him look around; Riddle was still standing there.

"Look sharp, Tom, you don't want to be caught out of bed out of hours, and you're a prefect…"

"Sir, I wanted to ask you something."

"Ask away, then, m'boy, ask away. . . ."

"Sir, I wondered what you know about . . . about Horcruxes?'

Slughorn stared at him, his thick fingers absentmindedly clawing the stem of his wine glass.

"Project for Defence against the Dark Arts, is it?"

But Harry could tell that Slughorn knew perfectly well that this was not schoolwork.

"Not exactly, sir," said Riddle. "I came across the term while reading and I didn't fully understand it."

"No . . . well. . . you'd be hard-pushed to find a book at Hogwarts that'll give you details on Horcruxes, Tom, that's very Dark stuff, very Dark indeed," said Slughorn.

"But you obviously know all about them, sir? I mean, a wizard like you — sorry, I mean, if you can't tell me, obviously — I just knew if anyone could tell me, you could — so I just thought I'd –"

It was very well done, thought Harry, the hesitancy, the casual tone, the careful flattery, none of it overdone. He, Harry, had had too much experience of trying to wheedle information out of reluctant people not to recognize a master at work. He could tell that Riddle wanted the information very, very much; perhaps had been working toward this moment for weeks.

"Well," said Slughorn, not looking at Riddle, but fiddling with the ribbon on top of his box of crystallized pineapple, "well, it can't hurt to give you an overview, of course. Just so that you understand the term. A Horcrux is the word used for an object in which a person has concealed part of their soul."

"I don't quite understand how that works, though, sir," said Riddle.

His voice was carefully controlled, but Harry could sense his excitement.

"Well, you split your soul, you see," said Slughorn, "and hide part of it in an object outside the body. Then, even if one's body is attacked or destroyed, one cannot die, for part of the soul remains earthbound and undamaged. But of course, existence in such a form ... ... few would want it, Tom, very few. Death would be preferable."

But Riddle's hunger was now apparent; his expression was greedy, he could no longer hide his longing. "How do you split your soul?"

Well," said Slughorn uncomfortably, "you must understand that the soul is supposed to remain intact and whole. Splitting it is an act of violation, it is against nature."

"But how do you do it?"

By an act of evil — the supreme act of evil. By committing murder. Killing rips the soul apart. The wizard intent upon creating a Horcrux would use the damage to his advantage: He would encase the torn portion —"

"Encase? But how —?"

"There is a spell, do not ask me, I don't know!" said Slughorn shaking his head like an old elephant bothered by mosquitoes. "Do I look as though I have tried it — do I look like a killer?"

"No, sir, of course not," said Riddle quickly. "I'm sorry ... I didn't mean to offend."

"Not at all, not at all, not offended," said Slughorn gruffly, "It is natural to feel some curiosity about these things. . . . Wizards of a certain calibre have always been drawn to that aspect of magic. . . ."

"Yes, sir," said Riddle. "What I don't understand, though — just out of curiosity — I mean, would one Horcrux be much use? Can you only split your soul once? Wouldn't it be better, make you stronger, to have your soul in more pieces, I mean, for instance, isn't seven the most powerfully magical number, wouldn't seven —?"

"Merlin's beard, Tom!" yelped Slughorn. "Seven! Isn't it bad enough to think of killing one person? And in any case . . . bad enough to divide the soul . . . but to rip it into seven pieces . . ."

Slughorn looked deeply troubled now: He was gazing at Riddle as though he had never seen him plainly before, and Harry could tell that he was regretting entering into the conversation at all.

"Of course," he muttered, "this is all hypothetical, what we're discussing, isn't it? All academic . . ."

"Yes, sir, of course," said Riddle quickly.

"But all the same, Tom . . . keep it quiet, what I've told — that's to say, what we've discussed. People wouldn't like to think we've been chatting about Horcruxes. It's a banned subject at Hogwarts, you know. . . . Dumbledore's particularly fierce about it. ..."

"I won't say a word, sir," said Riddle, and he left, but not before Harry had glimpsed his face, which was full of that same wild happiness it had worn when he had first found out that he was a wizard, the sort of happiness that did not enhance his handsome features, but made them, somehow, less human. . . .

"That's enough, Harry," said Dumbledore quietly. "Let us go. . . ."

When Harry landed back on the office floor Dumbledore was already sitting down behind his desk. Harry sat too and waited for Dumbledore to speak.

"I have been studying this piece of evidence for a very long time," said Dumbledore at last. "It confirms the theory on which I have been working, it tells me that I am right, and also how very far there is still to go. ..."

Harry suddenly noticed that every single one of the old head-masters and headmistresses in the portraits around the walls was awake and listening in on their conversation. A corpulent, red nosed wizard had actually taken out an ear trumpet.

"Well, Harry," said Dumbledore, "I am sure you understood the significance of what we just heard. At the tender age of sixteen Tom Riddle was doing all he could to find out how to make himself immortal."

"You think he succeeded then, sir?" asked Harry. "He made a Horcrux? And that's why he didn't die when he attacked me? He had a Horcrux hidden somewhere? A bit of his soul was safe?"

"A bit... or more," said Dumbledore. "You heard Voldemort, what he particularly wanted from Horace was an opinion on what would happen to the wizard who created more than one Horcrux, what would happen to the wizard so determined to evade death that he would be prepared to murder many times, rip his soul repeatedly, so as to store it in many, separately concealed Horcrux. No book would have given him that information. As far as I know — as far, I am sure, as Voldemort knew — no wizard had ever done more than tear his soul in two."

"So he's made himself impossible to kill by murdering other people?" said Harry.

Harry, armed with this information, this crucial memory I managed to procure we are closer to the secret of finishing Lord Voldemort than anyone has ever been before. You heard him, Harry: 'wouldn't it be better, make you stronger, to have your soul in more pieces . . . isn't seven the most powerfully magical number . . .' _isn't seven the most powerfully magical number_. Yes, I think the idea of a seven-part soul would greatly appeal to Lord Voldemort."

"He made seven Horcruxes?" said Harry, horror-struck, while several of the portraits on the walls made similar noises of shock mid outrage. "But they could be anywhere in the world — hidden — buried or invisible —"

"I am glad to see you appreciate the magnitude of the problem," said Dumbledore calmly. "But firstly, no, Harry, not seven Horcruxes: six. The seventh part of his soul, however maimed, that is Lord Voldemort, without that, he has no self at all. That seventh piece of soul will be the last that anybody wishing to kill Voldemort must attack — the piece that will live in his body once he is rejuvenated."

"But the six Horcruxes, then," said Harry, a little desperately, "how are we supposed to find them, and they could be anything?" said Harry. "They could be oh, in tin cans or, I dunno, empty potion bottles. . . ."

"But would Lord Voldemort use tin cans or old potion bottles to guard his own precious soul? You are forgetting what I have showed you. Lord Voldemort liked to collect trophies, and he preferred objects with a powerful magical history His pride, his belief in his own superiority, his determination to carve for himself a startling place in magical history; these things, suggest to me that Voldemort would have chosen his Horcrux with some care, favouring objects worthy of the honour."

"Do you know what they are, sir?" asked Harry.

"I can only guess," said Dumbledore. "For the reasons I have already given, I believe that Lord Voldemort would prefer objects that, in themselves, have a certain grandeur. I have therefore trawled back through Voldemort's past to see if I can find evidence that such artefacts have disappeared around him."

"Now things become murkier and stranger. If it was difficult to find evidence about the boy Riddle, it has been almost impossible to find anyone prepared to reminisce about the man Voldemort. In fact, I doubt whether there is a soul alive, apart from himself, who could give us a full account of his life since he left Hogwarts. However, I have two last memories that I would like to share with you." Dumbledore indicated the two little crystal bottles gleaming beside the Pensive. "I shall then be glad of your opinion as to whether the conclusions I have drawn from them seem likely."

The idea that Dumbledore valued his opinion this highly made Harry feel proud.

"I hope you are not tired of diving into other people's memories, for they are curious recollections, these two," he said. "This first one came from a very old house-elf by the name of Hokey. Before we see what Hokey witnessed, I must quickly recount how Lord Voldemort left Hogwarts.

"He reached the seventh year of his schooling with, as you might have expected, top grades in every examination he had taken. All around him, his classmates were deciding which jobs they were to pursue once they had left Hogwarts. Nearly everybody expected spectacular things from Tom Riddle, prefect, Head Boy, winner of the Award for Special Services to the School. I know that several teachers, Professor Slughorn amongst them, suggested that he join the Ministry of Magic, offered to set up appointments, put him in touch with useful contacts. He refused all offers. The next thing the staff knew, Voldemort was working at Borgin and Burkes."

"At Borgin and Burkes?" Harry repeated, stunned.

"At Borgin and Burkes," repeated Dumbledore calmly. "I think you will see what attractions the place held for him when we have entered Hokey's memory. But this was not Voldemort's first choice of job. Hardly anyone knew of it at the time — I was one of the few in whom the then headmaster confided — but Voldemort first approached Professor Dippet and asked whether he could remain at Hogwarts as a teacher."

"He wanted to stay here? Why?" asked Harry, more amazed still.

"I believe he had several reasons, though he confided none of them to Professor Dippet," said Dumbledore. "Firstly, and very importantly, Voldemort was, I believe, more attached to this school than he has ever been to a person. Hogwarts was where he had been happiest; the first and only place he had felt at home."

Harry felt slightly uncomfortable at these words, for this was exactly how he felt about Hogwarts too.

"Secondly, the castle is a stronghold of ancient magic. Undoubtedly Voldemort had penetrated many more of its secrets than most of the students who pass through the place, but he may have felt that there were still mysteries to unravel, stores of magic to tap into."

"And thirdly, as a teacher, he would have had great power and influence over young witches and wizards. Perhaps he had gained the idea from Professor Slughorn, the teacher with whom he was on best terms, who had demonstrated how influential a role a teacher can play. I do not imagine for an instant that Voldemort envisaged spending the rest of his life at Hogwarts, but I do think that he saw it as a useful recruiting ground, and a place where he might begin to build himself an army."

"But he didn't get the job, sir?"

"No, he did not. Professor Dippet told him that he was too young at eighteen, but invited him to reapply in a few years, if he still wished to teach."

"How did you feel about that, sir?" asked Harry.

"Deeply uneasy," said Dumbledore. "I had advised Armando against the appointment — I did not give the reasons I have given you, for Professor Dippet was very fond of Voldemort and convinced of his honesty. But I did not want Lord Voldemort back at this school, and especially not in a position of power."

"Which job did he want, sir? What subject did he want to teach?"

"Defence against the Dark Arts. It was being taught at the time by an old Professor by the name of Galatea Merrythought, who had been at Hogwarts for nearly fifty years."

"So Voldemort went off to Borgin and Burkes, and all the staff who had admired him said what a waste it was, a brilliant young wizard like that, working in a shop. However, Voldemort was no mere assistant. Polite and handsome and clever, he was soon given particular jobs of the type that only exist in a place like Borgin and Burkes, which specializes, as you know, Harry, in objects with unusual and powerful properties. Voldemort was sent to persuade people to part with their treasures for sale by the partners, and he was, by all accounts, unusually gifted at doing this."

"I'll bet he was," said Harry, unable to contain himself.

"Well, quite," said Dumbledore, with a faint smile. "And now it is time to hear from Hokey the house-elf, who worked for a very old, very rich witch by the name of Hepzibah Smith."

Dumbledore tapped a bottle with his wand, the cork flew out, and he tipped the swirling memory into the Pensive, saying as he did so, "After you, Harry."

Harry got to his feet and bent once more over the rippling silver contents of the stone basin until his face touched them. He tumbled through dark nothingness and landed in a sitting room in front of an immensely fat old lady wearing an elaborate ginger wig and a brilliant pink set of robes that flowed all around her, giving her the look of a melting iced cake. She was looking into a small jewelled mirror and dabbing rouge onto her already scarlet cheeks with a large powder puff, while the tiniest and oldest and first house-elf Harry had seen laced her fleshy feet into tight satin slippers.

"Hurry up, Hokey!" said Hepzibah imperiously. "He said he'd come at four, it's only a couple of minutes to and he's never been late yet!"

She tucked away her powder puff as the house-elf straightened up. The top of the elf's head barely reached the seat of Hepzibah's chair, and her papery skin hung off her frame just like the crisp linen sheet she wore draped like a toga.

"How do I look?" said Hepzibah, turning her head to admire the various angles of her face in the mirror.

"Lovely, madam," squeaked Hokey.

Harry could only assume that it was down in Hokey's contract that she must lie through her teeth when asked this question, because Hepzibah Smith looked a long way from lovely in his opinion.

A tinkling doorbell rang and both mistress and elf jumped.

"Quick, quick, he's here, Hokey!" cried Hepzibah and the elf scurried out of the room, which was so crammed with objects that it was difficult to see how anybody could navigate their way across it without knocking over at least a dozen things: There were cabinets full of little lacquered boxes, cases full of gold-embossed books, shelves of orbs and celestial globes, and many flourishing potted plants in brass containers. In fact, the room looked like a cross between a magical antique shop and a conservatory.

The house-elf returned within minutes, followed by a tall young man Harry had no difficulty whatsoever in recognizing as Voldemort. He was plainly dressed in a black suit; his hair was a little longer than it had been at school and his cheeks were hollowed, but all of this suited him; he looked more handsome than ever. He picked his way through the cramped room with an air that showed he had visited many times before and bowed low over Hepzibah's fat little hand, brushing it with his lips.

"I brought you flowers," he said quietly, producing a bunch of roses from nowhere.

"You naughty boy, you shouldn't have!" squealed old Hepzibah, though Harry noticed that she had an empty vase standing ready on the nearest little table. "You do spoil this old lady, Tom. ... Sit down, sit down. . . . Where's Hokey? Ah ..."

The house-elf had come dashing back into the room carrying a tray of little cakes, which she set at her mistress's elbow.

"Help yourself, Tom," said Hepzibah, "I know how you love my cakes. Now, how are you? You look pale. They overwork you at that shop, I've said it a hundred times. ..."

Voldemort smiled mechanically and Hepzibah simpered.

"Well, what's your excuse for visiting this time?" she asked, batting her lashes.

"Mr. Burke would like to make an improved offer for the goblin-made armour," said Voldemort. "Five hundred Galleons, he feels it is a more than fair —"

"Now, now, not so fast, or I'll think you're only here for my trinkets!" pouted Hepzibah.

"I am ordered here because of them," said Voldemort quietly. "I am only a poor assistant, madam, who must do as he is told. Mr. Burke wishes me to inquire —"

"Oh, Mr. Burke, phooey!" said Hepzibah, waving a little hand. "I've something to show you that I've never shown Mr. Burke! Can you keep a secret, Tom? Will you promise you won't tell Mr. Burke I've got it? He'd never let me rest if he knew I'd shown it to you, and I'm not selling, not to Burke, not to anyone! But you, Tom, you'll appreciate it for its history, not how many Galleons you can get for it."

"I'd be glad to see anything Miss Hepzibah shows me," said Voldemort quietly, and Hepzibah gave another girlish giggle.

"I had Hokey bring it out for me . . . Hokey, where are you? I want to show Mr. Riddle our finest treasure. ... In fact, bring both, while you're at it. ..."

"Here, madam," squeaked the house-elf, and Harry saw two leather boxes, one on top of the other, moving across the room as if of their own volition, though he knew the tiny elf was holding them over her head as she wended her way between tables, pouffes, and footstools.

"Now," said Hepzibah happily, taking the boxes from the elf, laying them in her lap, and preparing to open the topmost one, "I think you'll like this, Tom. . . . Oh, if my family knew I was showing you. . . . They can't wait to get their hands on this!"

She opened the lid. Harry edged forward a little to get a better view and saw what looked like a small golden cup with two finely wrought handles.

"I wonder whether you know what it is, Tom. Pick it up, have a good look!" whispered Hepzibah, and Voldemort stretched out a long-fingered hand and lifted the cup by one handle out of its snug silken wrappings. Harry thought he saw a red gleam in his dark eyes. His greedy expression was curiously mirrored on Hepzibah's face, except that her tiny eyes were fixed upon Voldemort's handsome features.

"A badger," murmured Voldemort, examining the engraving upon the cup. "Then this was . . . ?"

"Helga Hufflepuff's, as you very well know, you clever boy!" said Hepzibah, leaning forward with a loud creaking of corsets and actually pinching his hollow cheek. "Didn't I tell you I was distantly descended? This has been handed down in the family for years and years. Lovely, isn't it? And all sorts of powers it's supposed to possess too, but I haven't tested them thoroughly, I just keep it nice and safe in here. . . ."

She hooked the cup back off Voldemort's long forefinger and restored it gently to its box, too intent upon settling it carefully back into position to notice the shadow that crossed Voldemort's face as the cup was taken away.

"Now then," said Hepzibah happily, "where's Hokey? Oh yes, there you are — take that away now, Hokey."

The elf obediently took the boxed cup, and Hepzibah turned her attention to the much flatter box in her lap.

"I think you'll like this even more, Tom," she whispered. "Lean in a little, dear boy, so you can see. . . . Of course, Burke knows I've got this one, I bought it from him, and I daresay he'd love to get it back when I'm gone. ..."

She slid back the fine filigree clasp and flipped open the box. There upon the smooth crimson velvet lay a heavy golden locket.

Voldemort reached out his hand, without invitation this time, and held it up to the light, staring at it.

"Slytherin's mark," he said quietly, as the light played upon an ornate, serpentine S.

"That's right!" said Hepzibah, delighted, apparently, at the sight of Voldemort gazing at her locket, transfixed. "I had to pay an arm and a leg for it, but I couldn't let it pass, not a real treasure like that, had to have it for my collection. Burke bought it, apparently, from a ragged-looking woman who seemed to have stolen it, but had no idea of its true value —"

There was no mistaking it this time: Voldemort's eyes flashed scarlet at the words, and Harry saw his knuckles whiten on the locket's chain.

"I daresay Burke paid her a pittance but there you are. . . . Pretty, isn't it? And again, all kinds of powers attributed to it, though I just keep it nice and safe. . . ."

She reached out to take the locket back. For a moment, Harry thought Voldemort was not going to let go of it, but then it had slid through his fingers and was back in its red velvet cushion.

"So there you are, Tom, dear, and I hope you enjoyed that!"

She looked him full in the face and for the first time, Harry saw her foolish smile falter.

"Are you all right, dear?"

"Oh yes," said Voldemort quietly. "Yes, I'm very well. ..."

"I thought — but a trick of the light, I suppose —" said Hepzibah, looking unnerved, and Harry guessed that she too had seen the momentary red gleam in Voldemort's eyes. "Here, Hokey, take these away and lock them up again. ... The usual enchantments..."

"Time to leave, Harry," said Dumbledore quietly, and as the in tie elf bobbed away bearing the boxes, Dumbledore grasped Harry once again above the elbow and together they rose up through oblivion and back to Dumbledore's office.

"Hepzibah Smith died two days after that little scene," said Dumbledore, resuming his seat and indicating that Harry should do the same. "Hokey the house-elf was convicted by the Ministry of poisoning her mistress's evening cocoa by accident."

"No way!" said Harry angrily.

"I see we are of one mind," said Dumbledore. "Certainly, there are many similarities between this death and that of the Riddles. In both cases, somebody else took the blame, someone who had a clear memory of having caused the death"

"Hokey confessed?"

"She remembered putting something in her mistress's cocoa that turned out not to be sugar, but a lethal and little-known poison, said Dumbledore. "It was concluded that she had not meant to do it, but being old and confused —"

"Voldemort modified her memory, just like he did with Morfin!"

Yes, that is my conclusion too," said Dumbledore. "And, just as with Morfin, the Ministry was predisposed to suspect Hokey —"

"Because she was a house-elf," said Harry.

"Precisely," said Dumbledore. "She was old, she admitted to having tampered with the drink, and nobody at the Ministry bothered to inquire further. As in the case of Morfin, by the time I traced her and managed to extract this memory, her life was almost over — but her memory, of course, proves nothing except that Voldemort knew of the existence of the cup and the locket."

"By the time Hokey was convicted, Hepzibah's family had realized that two of her greatest treasures were missing. It took them a while to be sure of this, for she had many hiding places, having always guarded her collection most jealously. But before they were sure beyond doubt that the cup and the locket were both gone, the assistant who had worked at Borgin and Burkes, the young man who had visited Hepzibah so regularly and charmed her so well, had resigned his post and vanished. His superiors had no idea where he had gone; they were as surprised as anyone at his disappearance. And that was the last that was seen or heard of Tom Riddle for a very long time.

"The locket and Hufflepuff's cup became Horcruxes didn't they?" Asked Harry.

"Yes," said Dumbledore, smiling, "I would be prepared to bet — perhaps not my hand — but a couple of fingers that they became Horcruxes."

"I will hazard a guess that having secured objects from Hufflepuff and Slytherin, he set out to track down objects owned by Gryffindor or Ravenclaw. Four objects from the four founders would, I am sure, have exerted a powerful pull over Voldemort's imagination. I cannot answer for whether he ever managed to find anything."

"Do you think that's why he really wanted to come back to Hogwarts, sir?" said Harry. "To try and find something from one of the other founders?"

"My thoughts precisely," said Dumbledore. "But unfortunately, that does not advance us much further, for he was turned away, or so I believe, without the chance to search the school. I am forced to conclude that he never fulfilled his ambition of collecting four founders' objects. He definitely had two — he may have found three — that is the best we can do for now."

"Now," said Dumbledore, "if you don't mind, Harry, I want to pause once more to draw your attention to certain points of our story. Voldemort had committed another murder; whether it was his first since he killed the Riddles, I do not know, but I think it was. This time, as you will have seen, he killed not for revenge, but for gain. He wanted the two fabulous trophies that poor, besotted, old woman showed him. Just as he had once robbed the other children at his orphanage, just as he had stolen his Uncle Morfin's ring, so he ran off now with Hepzibah's cup and locket."

"And now for the very last recollection I have to show you, Ten years separates Hokey's memory and this one, ten years during which we can only guess at what Lord Voldemort was doing. . . ." Harry got to his feet once more as Dumbledore emptied the last memory into the Pensive.

"Whose memory is it?" he asked.

"Mine," said Dumbledore.

And Harry dived after Dumbledore through the shifting silver mass, landing in the very office he had just left. There was Fawkes slumbering happily on his perch, and there behind the desk was Dumbledore, who looked very similar to the Dumbledore standing beside Harry, though his face was, perhaps, a little less lined. The one difference between the present-day office and this one was that it was snowing in the past; bluish flecks were drifting past the window in the dark and building up on the outside ledge.

The younger Dumbledore seemed to be waiting for something, and sure enough, moments after their arrival, there was a knock on the door and he said, "Enter."

Harry let out a hastily stifled gasp. Voldemort had entered the room, he was no longer handsome Tom Riddle. It was as though his features had been burned and blurred; they were waxy and oddly distorted, and the whites of the eyes now had a permanently bloody look, he was wearing a long black cloak, and his face was as pale as the snow glistening on his shoulders.

The Dumbledore behind the desk showed no sign of surprise. Evidently this visit had been made by appointment.

"Good evening, Tom," said Dumbledore easily. "Won't you sit down?"

"Thank you," said Voldemort, and he took the seat to which Dumbledore had gestured — the very seat, by the looks of it, that Harry had just vacated in the present. "I heard that you had become headmaster," he said, and his voice was slightly higher and colder than it had been. "A worthy choice."

"I am glad you approve," said Dumbledore, smiling. "May I offer you a drink?"

"That would be welcome," said Voldemort. "I have come a long way."

Dumbledore stood and swept over to the cabinet where he now kept the Pensive, but which then was full of bottles. Having handed Voldemort a goblet of wine and poured one for himself, he returned to the seat behind his desk. . "So, Tom ... to what do I owe the pleasure?"

Voldemort did not answer at once, but merely sipped his wine. "They do not call me 'Tom' anymore," he said. "These days, 1 am known as —"

"I know what you are known as," said Dumbledore, smiling, pleasantly. "But to me, I'm afraid, you will always be Tom Riddle. It is one of the irritating things about old teachers. I am afraid that they never quite forget their charges' youthful beginnings."

He raised his glass as though toasting Voldemort, whose face remained expressionless. Nevertheless, Harry felt the atmosphere in the room change subtly: Dumbledore's refusal to use Voldemort's chosen name was a refusal to allow Voldemort to dictate the terms of the meeting, and Harry could tell that Voldemort took it as such.

"I am surprised you have remained here so long," said Voldemort after a short pause. "I always wondered why a wizard such as yourself never wished to leave school."

"Well," said Dumbledore, still smiling, "to a wizard such as myself, there can be nothing more important than passing on ancient skills, helping hone young minds. If I remember correctly, you once saw the attraction of teaching too."

"I see it still," said Voldemort. "I merely wondered why you — who are so often asked for advice by the Ministry, and who have twice, I think, been offered the post of Minister —"

"Three times at the last count, actually," said Dumbledore. "But the Ministry never attracted me as a career. Again, something we have in common, I think."

Voldemort inclined his head, unsmiling, and took another sip of wine. Dumbledore did not break the silence that stretched between them now, but waited, with a look of pleasant expectancy, for Voldemort to talk first.

"I have returned," he said, after a little while, "later, perhaps, than Professor Dippet expected . . . but I have returned, nevertheless, to request again what he once told me I was too young to have. I have come to you to ask that you permit me to return to this castle, to teach. I think you must know that I have seen and done much since I left this place. I could show and tell your student's things they can gain from no other wizard."

Dumbledore considered Voldemort over the top of his own goblet for a while before speaking.

"Yes, I certainly do know that you have seen and done much since leaving us," he said quietly. "Rumours of your doings have reached your old school, Tom. I should be sorry to believe half of them."

Voldemort's expression remained impassive as he said, "Greatness inspires envy, envy engenders spite, and spite spawns lies. You must know this, Dumbledore."

"You call it 'greatness,' what you have been doing, do you?" asked Dumbledore delicately.

"Certainly," said Voldemort, and his eyes seemed to burn red. "I have experimented; I have pushed the boundaries of magic further, perhaps, than they have ever been pushed —"

"Of some kinds of magic," Dumbledore corrected him quietly. "Of some. Of others, you remain . . . forgive me . . . woefully ignorant."

For the first time, Voldemort smiled. It was a taut leer, an evil thing, more threatening than a look of rage.

"The old argument," he said softly. "But nothing I have seen in the world has supported your famous pronouncements that love is more powerful than my kind of magic, Dumbledore."

"Perhaps you have been looking in the wrong places," suggested Dumbledore.

"Well, then, what better place to start my fresh researches than here, at Hogwarts?" said Voldemort. "Will you let me return? Will you let me share my knowledge with your students? I place myself and my talents at your disposal. I am yours to command."

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "And what will become of those whom you command? What will happen to those who call themselves — or so rumour has it — the Death Eaters?"

Harry could tell that Voldemort had not expected Dumbledore to know this name; he saw Voldemort's eyes flash red again and the slit-like nostrils flare.

"My friends," he said, after a moment's pause, "will carry on without me, I am sure."

"I am glad to hear that you consider them friends," said Dumbledore. "I was under the impression that they are more in the order of servants."

"You are mistaken," said Voldemort.

"Then if I were to go to the Hog's Head tonight, I would not find a group of them — Nott, Rosier, Macnair, Dolohov — awaiting your return? Devoted friends indeed, to travel this far with you on a snowy night, merely to wish you luck as you attempted to secure a teaching post."

There could be no doubt that Dumbledore's detailed knowledge of those with whom he was traveling was even less welcome to Voldemort; however, he rallied almost at once.

"You are omniscient as ever, Dumbledore."

"Oh no, merely friendly with the local barmen," said Dumbledore lightly. "Now, Tom . . ."

Dumbledore set down his empty glass and drew himself up in his seat, the tips of his fingers together in a very characteristic gesture.

"Let us speak openly. Why have you come here tonight, surrounded by henchmen, to request a job we both know you do not want?"

Voldemort looked coldly surprised. "A job I do not want? On the contrary, Dumbledore, I want it very much."

"Oh, you want to come back to Hogwarts, but you do not want to teach any more than you wanted to when you were eighteen. What is it you're after, Tom? Why not try an open request for once?"

Voldemort sneered. "If you do not want to give me a job —"

"Of course I don't," said Dumbledore. "And I don't think for a moment you expected me to. Nevertheless, you came here, you asked, you must have had a purpose."

Voldemort stood up. He looked less like Tom Riddle than ever, his features thick with rage. "This is your final word?"

"It is," said Dumbledore, also standing.

"Then we have nothing more to say to each other."

"No, nothing," said Dumbledore, and a great sadness filled his face. "The time is long gone when I could frighten you with a burning wardrobe and force you to make repayment for your crimes. But I wish I could, Tom. ... I wish I could. . . ."

For a second, Harry was on the verge of shouting a pointless warning: He was sure that Voldemort's hand had twitched toward his pocket and his wand; but then the moment had passed, Voldemort had turned away, the door was closing, and he was gone.

Harry felt Dumbledore's hand close over his arm again and moments later, they were standing together on almost the same spot that Voldemort had just been standing.

"So," said Harry. "There's Marvolo Gaunt's Ring, Salazar Slytherin's Locket, Helga Hufflepuff's Cup, and perhaps something of Gryffindor's and Ravenclaw's, that leaves a sixth Horcrux," said Harry, counting on his fingers.

"That is if he found something of both Gryffindor and Ravenclaw." Said Dumbledore as they both took a seat.

"True, but just say that he did, do you have any ideas what the sixth could be?" Harry asked, he didn't want to think about having to find out what three more Horcruxes were instead of just one.

"I think I know what the sixth Horcrux is. I wonder what you will say when I confess that I have been curious for a while about the behaviour of his snake, Nagini?'

"A snake?" said Harry, startled. "You can use animals as Horcruxes?"

"Well, it is inadvisable to do so," said Dumbledore, "because to confide a part of your soul to something that can think and move for itself is obviously a very risky business."

"I have been looking for a very long time. I think . . . perhaps ... I may be close to finding one. There are hopeful signs."

"And if you do," said Harry quickly, "can I come with you and help get rid of it?"

Dumbledore looked at Harry very intently for a moment before saying, "Yes, I think so."

"I can?" said Harry, thoroughly taken aback

"Oh yes," said Dumbledore, smiling slightly. "I think you have earned that right."

Harry felt his heart lift at the trust the Headmaster was showing him.

The headmasters and head-mistresses around the walls seemed less impressed by Dumbledore's decision; Harry saw a few of them shaking their heads.

"Does Voldemort know when a Horcrux is destroyed, sir? Can he feel it?" Harry asked, ignoring the portraits.

"A very interesting question, Harry. I believe not. I believe that Voldemort is now so immersed in evil, and these crucial parts of himself have been detached for so long, he does not feel as we do. Perhaps, at the point of death, he might be aware of his loss . . .

Harry sat in thought for a moment, then asked, "So if all of his Horcruxes are destroyed, Voldemort could be killed?"

"Yes, I think so," said Dumbledore. "Without his Horcruxes, Voldemort will be a mortal man with a maimed and diminished soul. Never forget, though, that while his soul may be damaged beyond repair, his brain and his magical powers remain intact. It will take uncommon skill and power to kill a wizard like Voldemort even without his Horcruxes."

"But I haven't got uncommon skill and power," said Harry, before he could stop himself.

"Not yet you haven't but I believe that with the right training and encouragement, you could match and possibly outclass Voldemort in both skill and power." Dumbledore said in a serious tone yet with a confident smile upon his aged face.

"You do?"

"I do." There was silence for a few moments before Dumbledore broke it.

"You already have a power that Voldemort has never had. You can love."

"I can love!" Harry asked confused.

"Yes, Harry, you can love," said Dumbledore. "Which, given everything that has happened to you, is a great and remarkable thing. You are still too young to understand how unusual you are, Harry."

"So, when the prophecy says that I'll have 'power the Dark Lord knows not,' it just means — love?" asked Harry, feeling a little let down.

"Yes — just love," said Dumbledore. "But Harry, never forget that what the prophecy says is only significant because Voldemort made it so. Voldemort singled you out as the person who would be most dangerous to him — and in doing so, he made you the person who would be most dangerous to him!"

"So because of my ability to love, I can defeat Voldemort."

"Yes, Voldemort has never understood love and thus he will never understand you."

"Too defeat your enemy you must first understand your enemy." Harry said repeating Dumbledore's words, he finally fully understood why they had gone so far back into Voldemort's past. To defeat him, Harry must first understand him.

"Exactly." Smiled Dumbledore. ""You see, the prophecy does not mean you have to do anything! But the prophecy caused Lord Voldemort to mark you as his equal. ... In other words, you are free to choose your way, quite free to turn your back on the prophecy! But Voldemort continues to set store by the prophecy. He will continue to hunt you . . . which makes it certain, really, that…"

"That one of us is going to end up killing the other," said Harry.

"Yes."

But he understood what Dumbledore was trying to tell him. It was, he thought, the difference between being dragged into the arena to face a battle to the death and walking into the arena with your head held high. Some people, perhaps, would say that there was little to choose between the two ways, but Dumbledore knew — "_and so do I_," thought Harry, with a rush of fierce pride, "and so did my parents." that there was all the difference in the world.

"I will always oppose Voldemort on my own two feet and with my head held high." Harry said out loud.

"And I will always stand shoulder to shoulder with you my boy." Said a beaming Dumbledore.

_End of Chapter_

_What do you think? Was it believable? Please leave a review._


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